


II. FLARPing Ch8mpions!!!!!!!!

by MsOzma



Series: Their Revolution [3]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Sgrub Session, Gen, Homestuck AU, Homestuck Trolls, Multi, Other, Revolution, Revolution AU, Troll Revolution
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-03
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-03-10 07:43:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3282428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsOzma/pseuds/MsOzma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Great Gathering has passed, and twelve trolls have taken their place in the acts soon to come.</p><p>She wants to make the sun shine in her name.</p><p>He wants to make the planets drown in his wrath.</p><p>(Part II of the <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/series/53367">Their Revolution</a> series--please read the <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/919860">Prologue</a> and <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/920433/chapters/1787355">Part I</a> before reading this.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Princess in One Sharp Square

**Author's Note:**

> I suggest bookmarking the entire [Their Revolution](http://archiveofourown.org/series/53367) series rather than just this part if you want to keep updated on everything having to do with this story. Uh...If you’re a member of the site, anyway. I guess for non-registered readers, you just...keep doing your thing? Yeah.
> 
> If you’re a _new_ reader, this is a multi-part series and you need to read [the Prologue](http://archiveofourown.org/works/919860) and [Futures Abound](http://archiveofourown.org/works/920433/chapters/1787355) for any of this to make sense. Enjoy!

CA

When you fall unconscious, the last thing on your pan is how the trajectory of your pathetic, sorry life has so often been controlled by flighty broads and their stupid schemes.

Like Fef.  Fef, and her dreams.  Fef, and her ideals.  Fef, and her _blood_.  Fef, and her _lusus_ , and _killing_ , and _feelings_ , and her _ridiculous, foolhardy, **absurd REVOLUTION**_.

…But it’s not just Fef, isn’t it?

“ _Hahahahahahahahaaaaaaaa!_ ”

Even now her shrill laugh rings out in perfect eight-part repetition.  How she torments you.  How you hate her.

You wish you didn’t hate her.  But you do.

It’s the same dream—you recognize it so well.  It’s a dream you often had after a particularly acerbic defeat on your end.  Which is to say it was a dream you _always_ had when FLARPing with her, because the defeats were always bitter and wretched.

And you.  _Always_.  **_Lost_**.

“Face it, Ampora,” she says, grinning with those glinting teeth of hers that always dared to be sharper and more dangerous than yours, and _God_ does it make you sick.  “You’ll never beat me!  _Neeeeeeeeverrrrrrrr!_ ”

You hate that in your pan you count out her dramatically extended words in eight letters because you know there’s no way you can even _articulate_ such a thing so precisely.  But you do it anyway.

You try to at least _act_ like you don’t care, and fail as a scowl spreads across your face. Just like always.

“Like _hell_ I can’t,” you growl, “the only reason you ever beat anyway is because you fuckin’ _cheat_ —”

She punches you in the gut, sending any airs of superiority over her out of your gut like they were always hers in the first place.  Literally _stealing_ your breath away.

How pathetically ironic.  How pathetically _her_.

And how pathetically **_you_**.

“Everything you have is _mine!_ ” she says, cackling.  “ _Mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, **MIIIIIIIINE**!!!!!!!!_ ”

As this nightmare continues, she twists and distorts as an amalgamation of everything about her and yourself and the world and every fucking bastard on it, and you realize she’s right when she says everything you have is hers, whether you or she like it or not.  Because as much as you’re tainted by Feferi Peixes, you’re also tainted by another princess.

A princess who owns you in a way even Fef can’t.

 _Vriska Serket_.

And just as those caustic affections you so long to obtain from her begin to consume you with her shrill cries and bright eyes, you awaken to a much brighter, though equally troubling visage.

Feferi Peixes—girl of your sad, unrequited flush dreams—eclipses a blinding sun as your head rests on her lap, she running fingers delicately through your hair.

“Eridan?” she speaks, so softly.  “Eridan, are you okay?”

You should have known you would always be the fool of women.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part will focus mainly on Eridan and Vriska, the latter of whose perspectives will be the central focus for the next chapter. What’s happening with her? You’ll find out at some point in time. I _would_ like to create a consistent updating scheduling, _especially_ since chapters from here on out will be _much_ shorter for the most part. My real hope is that I can make it happen bi-weekly, but that’s probably too optimistic. We’ll see how it goes—hopefully I can crank something out at least once a month, at the very least.
> 
> Anyway, as I already stated, Eridan and Vriska’s perspectives will probably be featured the most in Part II, with occasional breaks from that. This will be the general format of the story for a lot of future parts of Their Revolution—that is, a focus on two characters and how they relate to one another. A few parts, of course, will put a focus on _all_ the characters, but at least for the next few parts you can expect a central focus on a given two-character dynamic. I actually left (not-so?) subtle hints in the first part on which characters’ relationship dynamics will be featured, so if you wanna try and figure it out for yourself, by all means go for it!
> 
> Speaking about Eridan and Vriska’s relationship in this part, while I’d love to write any other series about Eridan and Vriska being romantically attached to one another in either the black or red quadrant, this will only focus on their black relationship in the past-tense “no-longer-exists” sense, with more focus on their relationship to each other in the most general sense. Again, you can expect this format for every other part of the series. Sorry, kids, no huge focus on romantic drama here.
> 
> Aaaaaand in case you’re wondering, **_yes, this is definitely an active series, and I have every intention of finishing it! If for some reason I choose not to finish this story, this bolded and italicized part will be deleted, and notes will be added to clarify it being abandoned._**


	2. Eye on the Prize

AG

“So there was this slave, right?  A nice little slave.”

“Uh…”

 “Thought she’d be good for a hatefuck or two before I sold her off or killed her.”

“I don’t really—”

“Lemme finish.  So this slave, this slave you see, I thought she’d go for cheap.  Not that she wasn’t pretty or anything, just her psychic powers were kinda useless, and she was _real_ low on the hemospectrum—like, we’re talking _maroon_.  And she had a _living lusus_ with her for crying out loud.”

“Look, this all seems really interesting—”

“I said _let me finish_.”

You can _hear_ the cerulean glaring at whatever hue the poor schmuck he’s talking to is.

Okay, so you’re willing to admit that _you_ talk a lot, maybe even gloat on occasion…but _this_ guy?  What an asshole.  Would this kid _ever_ shut up?

“But then some sweaty ass blue blood that’s maybe only a _shade_ higher than me comes in outbidding me.  And he keeps doing it.  And, you know, I usually don’t give a shit about people like him, but he seemed _so intent_ in getting this slave that I thought it’d be fun to make sure he _didn’t_ get her.  It was like a game, you know?  Plus I had a lotta credits.  Really didn’t matter to me how much I spent on one slave girl.  I didn’t actually give a shit about the slave chick _or_ him, _okay?_ ”

“O-…kay?”

Man, this kid is so easy to read it isn’t even _funny_.  He’s only lucky you have nothing better to do, or else you’d have checked out of listening in on their conversation by now.

And it’s not because of your ego that you consider listening to the conversation a privilege for him—you just know this kid is _dying_ for people to hear what he has to say.

“So I finally outbid him and I _purchased her_.  I had won, okay?  And then…my fucking _slaves_ …”

You think the kid might be trembling from rage for a second, but then almost immediately seems to calm down.

“Let’s just say I shouldn’t’ve purchased them, okay?  Spreading lies about my good name.  Well, they said something around Mister Blue, and he told the auctioneer, and I kinda lost it.  _But you would have too, okay?  If some petty fucking low bloods talked smack about you, you would have lost it too and made them see their own fucking **blood**._

“…Still, my outburst made me look guilty as charged to the auctioneer.  And they sent me off to get culled, along with those slaves _who got what they fucking deserved they did._   They also killed my lusus…but hey, I’m better of without ‘em.  And just as they were gonna cull me and finish the job, I…I uh, got away, in the nick of time.  _All by myself._

“And _that_ …is the story of how I, Garuda Aquila, once slated to be a _captain_ of the cavalreapers, got forced to an imperial waste hill miles outside of the Imperial Landing as nothing but a deserter.  It’s tragic, I tell ya.”

 **de - sert - er**  
_/dəˈzərdər/_  
_noun_  
1) a citizen of Her Imperious Condescension’s royal regime who deserts; 2) a troll who illegally shuns their imperially-assigned occupation and responsibility.

This was the last thing you looked up on your computer before you left the hive for greener pastures.  Of course, you already _knew_ what it meant—everyone does—but it did some good to look up the official definition.  Just to know _exactly_ what you were getting into, you know?

‘Cause once you make these sorts of decisions, there’s no going back.  Either go big or go hivebound—that’s how you see it.

Really, when it came down to it, you knew this was ultimately what you were always gonna do.  The moment you were asked to take the ITATCBB, you knew _nothing_ the empire would assign you would ever be suitable.  The empire was always going to offer you shit, and you weren’t ever gonna take it.

So why play by their rules?

You’ll admit it feels a little childish to still be on Alternia with the likes of Sir Never-Shuts-Up and what’s-their-blood-color in a huge, smelly garbage heap (referred to by the fellow cerulean with the lower-blooded term “imperial waste hill”), all gathered under the shade of a tree away from the sun like a bunch of losers.  After all, climbing aboard the fleet ships to your destiny awaiting you in the stars is very much a big part of growing up on Alternia, and even _you_ can’t deny you feel a little insulted to be put in this position.  But it’d feel more insulting to willingly allow yourself to be a fucking _fleet captain_ , you know.

And anyway, you think it’s more the empire’s fault than anything you’ve done.  _They’re_ the ones who assigned you to such a crappy position in the first place.  They left you with no choice!  You would have _loved_ to have gone off and done something grand with your life, even if it meant doing it their way, but they made their way _toooooooo_ unbearable for you.

…But no matter.  Just another bad break, eh?

“ _Hellooo???_ ”

You only just now notice the unknown-hued troll is trying to get your attention.  You direct your one good eye to meet their gaze, a little annoyed by the troll’s insistence.

“Yes?” you remark, not hiding your frustration.

The troll seems to pick up on your negative reaction, and immediately cringes.  “Oh.  Um…well it’s just…you’ve been here for a shorter amount of time than the other trolls here, and I just um…”

“You just _what?_ ” you demand, venom in your tone.

The troll’s eyes widen at such vehemence.  “Well I dunno, I just…wondered who you were and such—”

“And why exactly would I want to divulge something like _that_ , to someone like _you?_ ” you ask bitingly.

“Uh, mmm, uh, w-w-well…” the troll stutters, unable to coherently answer the question.

You roll your eye, almost _ashamed_ of how pathetic this troll is…like someone _else_ you’d rather not think about.

“I guess it’s _flattering_ you wanna know about me,” you tell the troll, “and like…I understand _why_ you do.  But _wow_ , you are being _such_ a bother about it.”

“I didn’t mean to offend—”

“Well, _guess what, asshole?_   Ya did.  You offended me _biiiiiiiig time_.

“Because believe it or _not_ ,” you continue, standing up as you speak, “not _everyone_ is willing to divulge every little aspect of themselves.”

You would give the stink-eye to the cerulean troll, but you think he probably doesn’t deserve it.  The statement alone is enough to illicit his own mumbling under his breath.

“Well look at Miss Superiority Complex over here…”

You huff, still not looking his way.  “ _Excuuuuuuuuse_ me?”

“You aren’t any better than the rest of us deserters,” he says coolly.  “At the end of the day, you’re still a fucking _reject_.  At least _I’ve_ come to accept that.”

You pause for a minute, carefully considering how you’ll respond to his words.  He acts calm about his insult, but you know he wants you to react a certain way—get angry, glare at him, indulge him with eye contact.  He’s clearly not good at being subtle—unlike an old FLARPing partner of yours, with their mind games…but not too much unlike another one, with their telltale strategies and propensity toward desperation and monologuing.

In your mind, you can almost imagine the sound of grinding teeth, and the flaring of bright, violet-tinted fins meant to threaten you.  You almost think he might call you a “filthy land dweller.”

 _Oh, Eridan Ampora_ , you want to say.  _I forgot how_ easy _you were._

“ _Unbelievable!_ ” you exclaim, grinning manically.  “You really think _I_ am anything like the rest of _you!?_ ”

Finally, you let your eye rest upon the stationary cerulean.  He’s laying back against the tree, both hands behind his head.  His short black hair seems to poke out in all different directions, the grey sleeves of his jacket are rolled up, and one leg outstretches itself casually.  It all gives the appearance of a man not even slightly bothered by someone looking down on him, confident in their ability to stay on top.

But the way he shifts his other leg uncomfortably from position to position—from knee high in the air to crossing it over his other leg to outstretching it—tells you all you need to know.  He is just too easy to read.  And that’s what makes it _fun_.

Eridan was never good for much, save for an ego boost. And even though you like to think you’ve put that sort of immaturity behind you…you’re not above doing something so petty right now, all things considered.

“You all are just a bunch of _losers_ ,” you say, still looking directly at the cerulean blood, “who’ve given up.  You’ve given up _everything_.  For you, this is the end of the line.  But for me…this is just the _beginning_.”

“And how exactly is this ‘ _just the beginning_ ’ for you?” the cerulean says, adding mock air quotes with his hands at his restating of your statement.  “You’re a  _deserter._   That’s  _it_.   _Game over_.”

“For  _you_ maybe,” you shrug, “but  _me_ …I have a  _plan._ ”

…Okay, you don’t  _actually_ have a plan.  You think maybe you might do something to make yourself _so amazing_ to the Condesce or some other high-ranking official that they’ll  _have_ to forgive you for deserting and maybe punish the people who thought to make you a fleet captain in the first place…or something like that.  You’re still working out the kinks, okay?

It doesn’t really matter  _anyway_.  You  _really_ just wanna see this cerulean squirm.  You expect some sort of reaction from him.  Maybe a scowl, or phony laughter, or even an eye-roll.  You think anything could come from him to validate your ego.  But before he can give you anything, the crud-blooded troll next to you ruins the moment.

“Well, I guess _nothing’s_ impossible now…I mean, just look what the _Heiress_ has done…”

_The Heiress?_

Outwardly, you don’t give any sign of recognition.  But in your pan, you recognize clearly who the troll’s talking about.  But then you also recognize that they _shouldn’t_ be talking about Feferi Peixes so candidly, that only _you_ and a few select others know her so well to know if and when she’s done _anything_.  You’re about to scope the troll’s mind to figure out _why_ and _how_ they know enough to talk about her when the question is answered for you by the cerulean.

“ _Please_ , you think some fucking fish tart like _her_ is going to successfully overthrow the Condesce?”

“ _What!?_ ”

This time you can’t hide your shock, your outburst doing away with any illusion of mystery you had in this regard.  Your good eye glances back and forth between the trolls, expecting an explanation as they both look at you blankly.

“Didn’t uh…didn’t you hear the speech?” the troll who first spoke of the Heiress responds.

“ _WHAT speech!?_ ” you demand of them, them flinching in response to your tone.  Your eye remains fixed on them, expecting some sort of answer that _if they don’t GIVE you will be forced out of them with mind control_ —

“The Heiress’s speech.”

The cerulean stops you before you take total control of the other troll’s mind, forcing your limited vision from the other troll to him.

“The Heiress hijacked the speech the _Condesce_ was s’posed to make,” the cerulean explains, “saying some… _nonsense_ about like, ‘overthrowing the Empress,’ and how like, ‘we all are slaves that need to break our shackles’ or some shit like that.  And then afterward she asked all of us to join her in fighting the Empress, and of course everyone was like, ‘NO WAY.’  I mean, it doesn’t even really _matter_ , why do people even _care_ so much about it?”

He stops there, thus allowing you a moment to digest everything that’s been said.  You consider for a split second that perhaps the Heiress he’s referring to is someone completely different from the Heiress you know…but only for a second.

You know, despite how hard it is to imagine, that it had to have been Feferi Peixes.

You gotta hand it to her, that’s something you would have _never_ expected her to do.  She’s usually so bubbly and cheerful—it’s hard to think of her as some emblazoned leader urging trolls to rebel.  And despite how little she and you have interacted with each other, you almost feel…a little worried for her.  You and her shared similarly troublesome lusii, you know.  And you don’t doubt the cerulean blood when he says no one joined her—you don’t even doubt the idea that that spineless moirail of hers—

“But weren’t there others that joined her though?” the other troll begins.  “And helped her escape somewhere?  Wasn’t it, uh…a couple low bloods and high bloods?  Yeah.  And like, I think one of them was actually a _sea dweller_ —”

“A _sea dweller!?_ ”

Your outburst gives you away again.  Though this time, the troll doesn’t hesitate in answering you.

“Uh yeah,” they say.  “A lot of people talked about it, I remember.  It was kind of a big deal?”

“A _dumb_ sea dweller if you ask me,” the cerulean scoffs.

“I think they were apparently pale with the Heiress,” the troll says. “I remember seeing on the screen that they comforted her like a moirail would.”

The cerulean responds with a slight chuckle.  “An even _dumber_ sea dweller than I originally thought.”

“Pale with the Heiress.”  That’s enough to solidify it in your mind.  This revelation almost makes it hard to keep your composure.  Feferi Peixes rebelling against the crown is one thing…but _Eridan Ampora?_

“You’ve gotta be joking.”

You say this out loud, as if Eridan could be right there listening to it.  The other trolls seem confused.

“E-excuse me?” the non-cerulean troll questions.

“Why would _you_ ,” you continue, still talking to the absent sea dweller, “throw everything away like that?  You wouldn’t…”  You find yourself chuckling a little at the thought.  “…you _couldn’t_ have…”

Eridan was the scummiest high blood you’d ever met.  He might have had a thing with Feferi—hell, he even had an unrequited flush crush on her!  But there was _no way_ he could have…

“…done something so _selfless_ ,” you finish your thoughts out loud.

“ _What do you MEAN the boss still wants us to check here!?_ ”

The voice comes from somewhere past the underbrush surrounding the garbage heap.  You look at the other two trolls sitting with you under the tree, and you all share a moment of mutual understanding.

Quietly you all hide in the bushes as the voices of the deputarians, authority figures in charge of capturing deserters like yourself, edge closer, their conversation becoming easier to hear as they do.

“Look,” you hear one say, “just because an Heiress decides to throw a hissy fit and make a speech about overthrowing our Glorious Condescension _praise be to her name_ , does _NOT_ mean that somehow we have license to not perform our job.  I mean, if _ANYTHING_ , it means we need to perform our job _BETTA_.”

“Was that _seriously_ a fish pun?” a voice matching the one you first heard responds.  “You are _such_ a kiss-ass!”

“Yeah,” the other replies.  “A kiss-ass that’s gonna get a promotion before _you_.”

At that statement, they come into view.  They’re covered from head to toe in cloth, no doubt to guard them from the sun’s violent rays.  They also wear goggles and what looks like a gas mask, most likely for the same reason.  As they approach the shade of the tree, the “kiss-ass” pulls out a small husktablet, and you see them typing on it.

“Who are we even _looking_ for?” the complaining troll asks, looking apparently exhausted.  You don’t blame them, considering the heavy amount of clothing they’re wearing.

“No one really important,” the “kiss-ass” explains.  “Mostly deserters, but there are a few people to look out for.  Like…one cerulean who was slated for culling, but managed to escape during the confusion of the Heiress’s speech.  His name’s Garuda Aquila, it seems.”

You throw a glance at the cerulean, smirking.  _You got away “all by yourself,” eh?_

Even though you can’t transmit your thoughts to him (his mind seems very powerful), he’s able to read your expression all the same, and scowls.

“…Oh,” the kiss-ass continues.  “And _another_ cerulean by the name of Vriska Serket.”

You show _too_ much recognition of your name by turning your head to the deputarian’s direction.  The two trolls around you see it.  Fuck, _there goes your anonymity_.

But why are they even _looking_ for you?

“She’s also a deserter,” the “kiss-ass” starts to answer for you, “but she’s wanted for other reasons.  She was apparently neighbors with former nobleman Equius Zahhak, now imperial traitor.”

You have to stop yourself from gasping out loud. _Equius?  Fucking EQUIUS???_   Now you’ve heard it all.

“She also apparently abandoned her lusus at her hive, which is in itself a crime…so really she’s wanted for desertion, lusus-abandonment, and interrogation.”

You almost forgot about your lusus and how you abandoned her.  You thought maybe the empire might let it slide—they rarely charge people with such crimes, _especially_ not high bloods.  But then if it’s true Equius is a traitor, they’re likely to try and pin you for every crime they can.

You were really hoping with this new start, you would be able to live without dealing with your lusus ever again…that you might actually be free from that responsibility for now on.  But it looks like if you’re ever going to get back into the empire’s good graces, that’s something you’re going to have to deal with too.

…God _dammit_.

“Welp,” the “kiss-ass” says, putting away their tablet, and walking off.  “Let’s scope around the area, see what we can find.”

“ _Unbelievable_ ,” the other troll mumbles to theirself as they follow the other troll, “ _we’re the only two people even_ here _, we won’t even_ find _anything, if you weren’t my matesprit I swear to God…_ ”

As the two trolls voices finally fade away, and the surroundings are clear, the cerulean catches your eye.  He smirks.

“So… _Vriska Serket_.”

You groan.

 

* * *

 

grimAuxiliatrix [GA] began trolling  arachnidsGrip [AG]

\---arachnidsGrip [AG] is offline and will not see their messages until the next time they log in---  
GA: Vriska  
GA: I Know I Said I Would Give You Space  
GA: But Uh  
GA: Well Events Have Apparently Transpired That Many Who Arent Me Might Call Shocking  
GA: And The Person That Is Me Would Also Call These Events Shocking  
GA: Actually Lets Just State For The Record That No Matter Who You Are Or What Your Temperament May Be These Events Are Capable Of Provoking A Shocked Reaction  
GA: This Is An Inarguable Fact  
GA: Look I Just  
GA: Im Worried About You And  
GA: If You Could Just Message Me Back  
GA: And Let Me Know Youre Okay  
GA: It Would Mean A Lot To Me

grimAuxiliatrix [GA] ceased trolling  arachnidsGrip [AG]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was wafting between adding and not adding fantrolls to the mix (beyond the canon ones), since I don’t usually enjoy them in most fanfiction (especially since they’re so often abused for self-insert shipping purposes), but I finally decided I would go for it. That was honestly why it took me so long to write this—I was trying to figure out if it was a direction I even wanted to go in. (Well, that and other reasons I’m not about to get into.) The fantrolls will not get that much of a starring role in this, mostly being like…NPCs in a RPG. Well, it’s a bit more complicated than that…in many RPGs, you might encounter some side character that kind of join your party and help you in battles occasionally. While you can sometimes control these characters, there are some RPGs (I’m thinking Final Fantasy III in particular here) where you don’t control them, and their assistance in battle is kind of random—like a special one-hit K.O. attack every few battles, or an extra powerful healing move when your party is struggling. They are still for all intents and purposes NPCs, but they still tag along with you for a bit, and just sort of jump out and make things a little easy for you in the game, as well as help move the story along. The latter type is kind of what I imagine the fantrolls to be like—they’re extra helpful NPCs that join forces with the main characters, get a bigger role than the other NPCs, and maybe even get a bit of backstory and development, but ultimately exist for the benefit of the main characters in the story.
> 
> I hope that explanation makes sense to everyone that isn’t me.
> 
> Also, fun note: The term “deserter” is actually a term that technically refers to the armed forces (deserting the military, so to speak). Even though Vriska’s assigned position would have fit in this definition, I thought it’d be cool to change its definition for the sake of the story for people who desert their jobs/occupations in general, subtly hinting at the violence, conquest, and latent militarization all trolls are raised for under the Condesce.


	3. Orders and Revelations

AT

With the Great Gathering over and the day through, you had been left with so many questions.  Questions about your fate.  Questions about your duty.  And more than that, questions of how you went from being assigned as a grunt Cavalreaper, to slated for culling through indirect association with Heiress Feferi—a crime that has killed trolls for even the loosest of connections and arbitrary of evidence—to then being assigned as a _general_ of the Cavalreapers, all within the span of a day.

You may like to daydream, but that was something you couldn’t have imagined happening even in your wildest dreams.  Yet it happened all the same, and you still weren’t sure why.

And even with so many questions to ask—of the Condesce, of your friends…you kept quiet, unsure of yourself or your place.  And like a child, when you were sent to a respiteblock on the Condesce’s personal flagship, now orbiting Alternia like a third moon, and saw the recupercoon that accommodated your large horn span, you let all the confusing, worrying, jumbled-up thoughts fade from your thinkpan and leave you with overwhelming weariness.

You slept soundly, the sensation of lying in the thick layer of green goo of the roomy recupercoon giving you a sensation of almost floating.  It was…peaceful.  Quiet.  Nice, even.  You didn’t even have a nightmare.  You don’t think you’ve ever slept so well in your whole life.

But when you awake in the morning to the sound of a troll knocking at your block door, with the imperial garb of a Cavalreaping general and orders to clean yourself, get dressed, and meet in the meeting block ASAP, you’re once again reminded of your situation and how ill-suited you are to fight it.  After you’ve cleaned yourself of slime in your ablution chamber and put on the Cavalreaping general’s suit, you find it doesn’t fit you well, and it’s ill-fittedness reminds you how small and feeble you are to fight any of this.

You think then that you probably shouldn’t have let yourself go to sleep so easily.

 

* * *

 

You’re the first of your friends to enter the meeting block, which is guarded by two burly trolls.  In it, a semi-reflective, chrome-filled environment welcomes you, a large, rectangular table extending to the end of the room before holo projection of what you believe to be a map of Alternia.  Upon entering, you immediately recognize the large blue blood from the other day.  When she sees you, she acknowledges your entrance with a nod.

“Ah,” she greets plainly, “the brown blood.”

You honestly don’t expect anyone to see you as anything more than “brown blood.”  Even if you are a Cavalreaper and a general, and even if you do have your fancy maroon Cavalreaping suit on, it’s still clear that you are a “brown blood,” as signified by the brown stripe on your left sleeve’s shoulder (right below purple, which is below the Condesce’s fuchsia).

…But as a _confident person_ , you feel like you should maybe be insulted?  You’re not sure.  You debate for a moment whether you should demand to be called “General Nitram” or not, before quickly deciding that she is too scary to talk back to.  And if she’s working personally with the Condesce, her ranking might be _much_ higher than yours.

Ultimately, all you end doing is responding to her with and awkward, stuttered out, “H-…h-hi.”

“Have a seat,” she says, motioning to an empty chair next to her.

You think for a moment you might be rebellious…that you might not walk past all the chairs at the large table to sit right next to her at the very seat she’s motioning to.

And you don’t.  You sit at the chair right _next_ to it!  BOOM!  How does she like you now!?

She doesn’t seem fazed by the decision, but you assume it’s mostly because your fires are too sick for her to properly acknowledge.

“Now,” she starts, clearly hiding (rather well) her obvious dissatisfaction with you, “do you happen to know where the rest of your associates… _ah, there’s one_.”

She looks over to the meeting block’s entrance, and as she does, you turn your head to view the source of interruption as well.  Terezi stands stoically in what you assume is the standard uniform for cahootioneers.  You’re somewhat surprised at how greatly it differs from your own suit, the latter being covered in buttons and ornaments and regalia you never actually earned.  Hers seems like a mismatch of random clothing articles combined in various, ill-fitting ways—black, baggy pants, with belt straps around the knees and pockets galore; a black tube top wrapped around a dark grey sweater as her two-piece top; black gloves, perhaps of musclebeast hide?; and a disconnected black hood, hanging loosely around her neck.  It’s certainly _nothing_ like the legislacerator look she had on yesterday, and nothing you think she would wear willingly.

Even so, you notice she still has her red glasses on, and her usual red sneakers.  They pop out rather easily compared to the rest of her dark attire.

“Do you _really_ have to wear those red objects?” the blue blood questions, apparently not blind to their brightness either.

The tone of the blue blood’s voice is enough to scare _you_ ; however, Terezi simply raises an eyebrow, visible over the red lens of her glasses and asks, “Is there a reason I shouldn’t?”

“The glasses are completely unnecessary and distracting,” she states.  “As for your shoes, you were provided with the appropriate footwear to go with your official uniform.”

“You mean those black combat boots?” Terezi asks, looking disgusted with the prospect of wearing them.  “And you call _this_ -” she motions to her clothing ensemble “-a _uniform??_   I don’t usually care about fashion, but these clothes are really dumb.  They’re not even colorful enough to make up for being so stupid!”

Oh man, is she _really_ being this rude to the blue blood?  You won’t deny she’s being brave and confident, but _wow_ doesn’t she realize this person probably outranks her, not only by blood but also official ranking???  Especially considering all of you are on unsure footing, this blue blood probably has the ability to cull you all in an instant.

And you think—with the silence that ensues after Terezi’s remark—that she just might.

…Until she lets out a heavy sigh.  “Need I remind you that cahootioneers are dressed for stealth and cunning, often needing to go rogue on certain missions.  In red and other bright colors, you will stick out like a sore thumb.”

“ _Ugh_ ,” is Terezi’s only response to that.  You quietly exhale in relief, having held your breath for quite a few seconds now out of fear.

“Now,” the blue blood continues, “I suggest you get over this little tantrum of yours and _have a seat_.”

The blue blood motions to the seat you were once supposed to take in a jerk arm movement, causing you to flinch, rather embarrassingly.  However, Terezi, in proving her confidence, ends up walking to the table to the seat and sits the second seat down from the one the blue blood ordered her to sit in, though still next to you.  You see from the blue blood’s reaction that this bothers her, and you’re reminded of how little she reacted to your own defiance.

You start to think that maybe she didn’t care as much as you thought she did, and become saddened at this, drooping your head.

“Hey Tavros.”

Terezi grabs your attention, causing you to snap your head in her direction.  You’re kind of glad that the chairs provide enough space between each other to allow you to move your head easily, for once you realize yourself, you remember she’s only about two inches shorter than you and _wow_ could your horns have hurt her.  Just _another_ way you could have screwed up.  She doesn’t seem to think this thought, however, as she simply grins at you.

“Nice suit,” she says.

This causes you to suddenly forget your sadness and briefly look down, still feeling the suit is a little large on you.  You smile sheepishly, looking away as you respond to her.  “Uh…thanks.  I guess it’s fine.”

“You _guess_ it’s fine?”

The blue blood’s interjection makes you visibly shiver, and your fear of the blue blood’s potential power over you returns.  But s you turn your head toward her and begin to open your mouth to explain yourself and assure her everything’s fine, that your suit’s great, that you’re _sure_ you’ll grown into it eventually, Terezi speaks up before you.

“Look who _finally_ got out of the shower!”

She uses the more formal term “shower” for the more recognizable and informal term “ablution trap.”  Though her bringing up showers/ablution traps _at all_ seems out of place, until you turn toward her and see the last two members of your party.  You almost _gasp_ at their appearance.

Out of the two, Karkat is the most immediately shocking.  For one thing, his uniform is a bright red—already a sharp contrast compared to Terezi being dressed for “stealth” and you for neutral formality.  There’s no way _anyone_ could ignore Karkat…but then he wouldn’t need to be skimmed over, looking like he does. 

The suit—along with being eye-popping—is also designed in the spitting image of an imperial drone uniform.

Your gaze stays transfixed on him for some time as he glares at Terezi.

“It wasn’t _me_ who took long,” Karkat responded angrily, “it was clownfuck over here.”

For the first time, you take a good look at Gamzee, and find he’s dressed surprisingly too…mostly because he’s dressed _in the same clothes you’ve always seen him in_.

“By the way,” Karkat starts, now addressing the blue blood, “Gamzee refused to wear the uniform because he said it was ‘too scary.’”  He puts the last two words in air quotes.  “Clearly not caring what _I_ look like, of course.”

“Awww,” Gamzee speaks for the first time, “Kar-bro, I could _never_ be all fearing-like of _you!_   Even if you _do_ yell a lot and shit.”

“I _told_ him it was gross insubordination to not dress appropriately,” Karkat explains to the blue blood, “but he _still_ didn’t put on the goddamn uniform.  Since I as a threshecutioning general should have about _the same level of power as you_ —”

“You don’t,” the blue blood remarks blankly.

“—and I…wait, _what?_ ”

Karkat seems somewhat shocked by this, though you don’t know why.  Can he really not guess that this person is higher than him?

“You don’t outrank me,” the blue blood explains.  “I am a personal soldier, guard, and advisor to Her Imperious Condescension herself.  Even in blood caste I am higher than you, my blue blood _much_ higher than your sickening _green_.”

Karkat seems to become pale at the mention of his blood color—another thing you find strange.  You yourself have brown blood, which is _incredibly_ low—lower than his by a longshot.  In fact, thinking about how he used to always type in grey, you had _way_ more reason to hide your blood color than _he_ did.

Why does his green blood bother him so much?

“Not to mention you apparently needed your _moirail_ to get into the ranks,” the blue blood adds as a final statement on Karkat’s assumed equal power to her.

Oh yes!  His moirail too!  You remember it being discussed yesterday, and being confused about it—you wouldn’t say you and Karkat are best friends by any means, but you think you would have _at least_ known he had a moirail!

…But apparently Terezi knew?  Does Gamzee know too? 

Are…are you the only one out of the loop?

“To be fair,” the blue blood begins, “Sir Gamzee Makara outranks all of us here as a noble purple blood and a jokage of the laughsassins.  If he has decided that he wishes _not_ to wear his uniform, he has the full right to, and I will attempt to get him a more suitable outfit.”

Terezi groans in disgust at this, and you’re still shocked to see the blue blood do nothing but shoot her the stink eye.

“With all of that aside,” the blue blood continues, “I believe it’s time for the last of our companions to **_have a seat_**.”

She bites these last words, and for the last time, she motions to the chair next to her.  Gamzee, perhaps not sensing any danger like the rest of you are, simply smiles and says, “Okay, lady!” before strolling over to the seat closest to the blue blood, and the one right next to you.  Karkat walks slowly, still pale as ever and now strangely mute, sits right next to Terezi.

When Gamzee sits down, he shoots you a bright smile.  “Wassup Tav-man?”

Any other time you would be more kind to him, but the thought that somehow he, Terezi, and Karkat are all in on something bothers you.  All you can manage is a weak grin before drooping your head.

“Now,” the blue blood starts, “I am sure all of you are wondering why I’ve called you in, especially considering your reports on the green blood won’t be due until tomorrow Alternia Planetary Time.”

“Quick question,” Terezi stops her, raising her hand as she speaks.

The blue blood sighs.  “ _Yes_ , Pyrope?”

“Do you accept reports written in _chalk?_ ”

Terezi laughs at her own statement.  She’s the only one who does, as you and Karkat both stare at her in mute horror, and Gamzee just…sort of stares at her.

“I don’t get it,” Gamzee remarks.

“ _You don’t have to Sir Makara_ ,” the blue blood says exasperatedly, even as Terezi continues to laugh.  “Pyrope, you’ll be wise to keep quiet.  You might believe this to be some sort of game, but I assure you this is _not_.  May I remind you that your lives are hinging on the success or failure of the task presented to you, and even one misstep is enough for me to have the Condesce cull you _and_ your friends.”

This stops Terezi’s laughter almost immediately.

“In fact,” the blue blood goes on, “the only one safe from culling among the lot of you is Sir Makara here.  To be perfectly frank, I’m not even sure _why_ the Condesce is forcing him to work with the likes of rabble like you.”

Terezi growls at this, and you assume that this must be a blow to her ego.  She and Gamzee were already getting off to a bad start for the Great Gathering, and now this blue blood is making matters worse.

“Now if I may _continue_ ,” the blue blood says.  “I have called you all here today to brief you on your training, duties, and responsibilities.

“To first make things clear—and to continue with what I have told our dear green-blooded friend Karkat Vantas—I am your superior officer.  My name is Assahm Oistos, but with the exception of Sir Makara, you may only refer to me as ‘Commander.’”

You have two thoughts.  One, that it seems strange that it’s taken her _this long_ to tell you guys who she is.  Two, you’re not entirely sure it makes sense for her to call herself “commander” when you and Karkat are generals and Terezi’s essentially a spy.  You’ll admit you don’t know a _lot_ about military titles, but you’re pretty sure generals outrank everyone?  And spies don’t really _have_ a ranking system.

…But then you’re sure if you tried to say anything you would just get everyone culled like Terezi almost did.  And even if they don’t seem to care enough to keep you in the loop of whatever/whoever Karkat’s moirail is, you at least care enough to not want them to die.

“With the exception of Sir Makara who must only work to take down the Heiress’s rebellion in tandem with the rest of us, your duties involve numerous aspects,” Assah—er…your _Commander_ explains.  “First and foremost, they involve giving a _very_ detailed report of your relationship with the fugitive Nepeta Leijon, and in that regard, add anything you might know about her moirail Equius Zahhak.  This will be due tomorrow, and will be _typed_ —” your Commander throws a look at Terezi, “—in legible font face, printed, and handed over to the Condesce herself, who will read over them and ensure everything checks out.”

The thought of having to walk up to the Condesce and hand over a report terrifies you.  It’s even worse considering the whole report will have to be filled with lies about you, Nepeta, and Equius.

“Secondly,” your Commander continues, “you will have to submit _another_ report—”

“ _Another_ one!?” Karkat suddenly exclaims.  “Just how many fucking reports are we gonna have to—”

“—about your relationship with Nektan Whelan.”

Karkat is silenced with this, unable to form a proper response.  Neither is anyone else, for that matter.  The only sound heard is Gamzee swinging his feet below his chair, causing it to squeak.

“The Condesce and I both agree that Nektan’s association with the traitor with Eridan Ampora—however _minor_ you may claim it to be—is still worthy of our inspection.  For this, we will be asking you all to discuss your relationship with Nektan, and—”

“ _All_ of us?” Karkat questions again.

“ _Yes_ , Karkat,” your Commander explains, “ _all_ of you.  Pyrope here _did_ testify to Nektan being a ‘dear friend,’” your Commander side-eyes Terezi as she says this, “and considering how close the lot of you are, it wouldn’t be too far off to assume our brown-blooded friend also has some invaluable insight to Nektan’s person as well.”

Now she’s looking at you.  _You_.  Like she’s expecting you to say something.

Your mouth feels really dry.

“I-I…” you stutter out.  “I um—”

“Tavros knows _me_ better than he knows Karkat,” Terezi suddenly interjects.  “And _I’m_ the one who knows Karkat and Nektan best—”

“I’m sorry Pyrope,” your Commander stops her, “but I don’t think I asked you to say anything.  Even worse, you’ve interrupted the _poor brown blood_ here.”

She’s patronizing you now and you know it.  You know when you’re being patronized because Vriska used to do it to you all the time.  Already you feel your guts twisting on the inside, your pan going back to all the terrible things Vriska used to say and do to you.

Your knee keeps bouncing, and you wish you could make it stop.

“W-well…” you go on, still fumbling.  “It…it-it-it’s just I’m not uh…sure really if, um…th-the things I have to say w-would be…”

Your Commander’s eyes are still on you, surprisingly patient and docile to behold.  Vriska at this point would have been berating you to spit it out, and even now you can hear her yelling at you in your pan.

…But Vriska’s mind rants are almost welcoming to hear, when up against those calm, patient, probing blue eyes.  Because somehow, you know the more you fumble, the more she really knows.

“They’d be…” you press on, swallowing hard in an attempt to steel yourself.  “They’d be k-kinda pointless, since I really, uh, did-did-didn’t know him that well.”

You don’t even _know_ Nektan.  You’re lying and you know it, and _she_ probably knows it too you think.  It’s one thing to lie about people you actually know, like Equius and Nepeta and Eridan and Feferi, but…what can you even begin to _say_ about this Nektan guy?

You half expect her to slate you and everyone else for immediate culling.  But to your surprise, when she speaks, it’s not with a death sentence.

“Even so,” you Commander says calmly, “you might have some… _invaluable_ information about him that both his moirail and ‘dear friend’ here might miss.  After all…a stranger might know more about a troll’s hidden secrets than their closest companions—”

Karkat suddenly slams his fists on the table, causing everyone—even your Commander—to flinch in shock.  He glares at her, face flushed green with rage.

“That’s my fucking _moirail_ we’re talking about!” he shouts at her.  “We already established that Nektan is fucking _innocent_ —”

“We established that _you_ were innocent!” your Commander bites.

“ _It’s the same fucking thing, and you know it!_ ” Karkat yells even more loudly than before.  “If _I’m_ innocent, then my _moirail’s_ innocent!  That’s in the Diamond Code!”

The Diamond Code.  Even without Terezi’s legal smarts, any troll would be plain dumb not to know what it was.  It’s a set of laws having to do with the pale quadrant, deemed necessary by previous rulers due to the importance of a healthy moirallegiance in maintaining social order.  Essentially, the function of these laws is to protect moirails from ever being forced apart by social forces (instead of personal reasons), as well as to ensure punishment of moirails who fail to perform their duties to their palemate.  The law Karkat is referencing more than likely was made for this second reason, as it states that if a person with a moirail is ever deemed guilty of a crime, their moirail will share their sentence, due to a perceived failure of that moirail in keeping their other in line.  This of course works in reverse, where if a troll is—in the rare likelihood—forgiven for or found innocent of their crimes, the moirail will likewise not be punished.

You know Karkat has a good point.  But you also know enough—as the lowest blood in the room—that the Empire has no qualms about culling someone arbitrarily.  You’re pretty sure even _Karkat_ knows this—in fact, like the Diamond Code, you think someone would have to be pretty dumb to _not_ know that.  Is he…is he really _that confident?_

You feel even worse about yourself.

“Your moirail may have been innocent of any crime accused while he was with _you_ ,” your Commander explains.  “However, as you have _already stated_ , you have only been with him for two sweeps, and Nektan—as _I_ have already stated—spoke with sea dweller Eridan Ampora at least a sweep before.  Meaning his charges fall _outside_ of the Diamond Code.”

“That’s a loophole,” Terezi snaps.  “That’s flimsy reasoning to go after him and _you know it_.”

“We are in a time of war, Pyrope,” your Commander states matter-of-factly.  “And Eridan Ampora is a sea dweller of very noble heritage.  A sea dweller who is _against the crown_.  Not to mention he was the _first_ to join her.  Of all the traitors, his crimes are the most serious of all.  I would even go so far to say that his allegiance to the Heiress is just as bad as the Heiress’s speech.  So if you could _forgive us_ if we decide to forego certain rules to ensure the Heiress’s swift destruction.”

None of you have anything to say to that.  Again, things remain quiet—even Gamzee, now having zoned out for quite some time, remains silent.

“And _besides_ ,” your Commander adds, “I’ve already sent a message awaiting a response to Nektan today and—”

“You _talked_ to him!?”

Karkat blurts this out, his eyes wide with…fear?  Wasn’t he just being confident and brave before?

“We have sent him a message, yes,” your Commander explains.  “He will probably respond to it soon.  It basically entails that he is now suspected of criminal association with Eridan Ampora and thus the Heiress, and will soon be interrogated.  Of course, due to his sea dweller heritage, we will suspend any immediate interrogations against him and await your reports.”

“Sea dweller heritage”?  So Karkat’s moirail is a _sea dweller?_   At least that _kind of_ explains his behavior before when he was pounding his fists on the table.

“How much time do we have to complete _these_ secondary reports about Nektan?” Terezi asks with little emotion.

“We have actually allowed Nektan the privilege of choosing,” she says.  You’re really not sure it makes sense to let him choose, considering what he’s accused of, even if he is a sea dweller…but then you know nothing about him.  Of course that’s a terrifying thought in and of itself because _oh my God you don’t even **know** him and you have to write a report about how you know him_.

“What else…” your Commander trails off.  “Oh yes.  As for formal military training, we unfortunately have no choice but to train you mostly with hands-on experience.”

“You mean…” Karkat starts.  “You’re just gonna… _throw us in the field_ and see how the fuck we perform?”

“It’s not the most desirable option,” your Commander says, “but it’s _unfortunately_ the only one we have.”

Your knee is bouncing again at the thought of going into battle with no preparation.  You even gulp comically, as embarrassing as that is to admit.

You weren’t even sure you’d be a good Cavalreaper, to be honest.  And now here you are as a general in a time of war, prepped to be put into battle without any formal training?  You’re not ready for that.  You’re not good enough for that.  You’re not brave or confident or strong or _anything_ enough for that.

 _“You’ll die for sure,”_ you hear Vriska mock in your pan.

“With that,” your Commander states, “I believe this briefing is over.  You will soon be assigned an imperial trollhandle, but that won’t be until later.  Until then, you’re all free to go back to your respiteblocks and finish your reports—though Sir Makara, if you could stay, we can figure out a new outfit for you to wear.”

Gamzee bolts to attention at the mention of his name.  “Awwww man!” he says, blushing purple with embarrassment.  “Fuck lady, I wasn’t paying attention to _none_ of that.”

“That’s alright, Sir Makara,” she says, kinder than she spoke to any of you.  “You didn’t _have_ to pay attention.”

The rest of you tentatively start up and you’re _just thinking_ how you’ll try and ask Karkat and Terezi what you’re gonna do and who Nektan is before she stops you again with her hand, you all freezing in place.

“One more thing,” she says.  “Conversations amongst each other will be kept to a minimum.  This is per the Condesce’s orders, to ensure the… _truthfulness_ of your reports.”

Well.  There goes your idea.

With that, all of you stand up and leave the meeting block, though you realize you’re all going the same direction pretty quickly.  But with your Commander’s last order, the eyes of other guards on you, and cameras you _know_ are installed recording you, the three of you can’t even manage small talk.  But as you get to the respiteblocks, Terezi is the first to turn to her door.  Before she opens it, however, she takes a good look at you and Karkat, and—in her usual, cunning way—smiles.

“Hey Tavros,” she says very casually.

You can’t bring yourself to respond to her, already too afraid of the fact that she’s even _talking_ to you.

“You used to go on Trollcadia, right?”

The subject is surprising enough to illicit a reaction from you.  “I…huh?”

“Didn’t you have a different name then?  Something like…‘Airy Grandeur’?”

And in a split moment, you understand what she’s trying to say.

“I remember you stopped using it because Vriska bullied you about having the same trollhandle initials,” she continues.  “But I know a couple of my old roleplaying handles had you on there, so I remembered the name.”

“Yeah,” you say with a nod, hoping to convey that you understand her.

She then takes a look at Karkat, who’s obviously confused.  “But poor Karkles here never used Trollcadia!”

Karkat raises an eyebrow, still not getting it.  “The fuck does an old beasty program have to do with _anything_ that just happened?”

“ _Geeeez_ , Karkat,” Terezi says in mock anger, “I was just trying to talk about old times and all the crazy ways we used to communicate to each other!  You know—back when we only knew each other on the husktop?”

At that point Terezi may as well have been waving a big red flag over the point of all of this, which was for sure risky.  But when Karkat’s eyes widen with understanding, you know it’s worth it.

“Yeah,” Karkat says.  “I guess I just never found that wigglerish nonsense that fun.”

“ _Whateverrrr_ ,” Terezi says with a smile.  “There’s no need to be such a _jerk_ about it, especially the day after your wriggling day.”

Karkat begins to roll his eyes at this before Terezi grabs his hand, stopping him.  A green blush is apparent on his face.

“By the way…” she begins, taking off her glasses with her free hand and putting them in the hand she grabbed, “ _happy eighth wriggling day._ ”

As Karkat looks up at her, still flushed, she winks.

“Red clearly looks better on you anyway,” she says playfully.

And with that, she immediately turned to open her door.

“Better not look at all the neat stuff I have on those glasses!” she says as she enters the block.  “Wouldn’t want you to find any embarrassing stuff I have on Trollian.”

And with that, the door shuts.

 

* * *

 

? trialCorrections [TC] has invited  ? airyGrandeur [AG] and  ? coolCollectorxxx [CC] to board TROLLC4D14 D1SCUSS1ON _[glitch]_

? trialCorrections [TC] opened memo at [??:??] on board TROLLC4D14 D1SCUSS1ON _[glitch]_

?TC: UGH, TH3Y _ST1LL_ H4V3NT F1X3D TH3 GL1TCH3S ON GROUP CH4TS?  
?AG: i GUESS NOT,  
?CC: OKAY, LET’S GET A COUPLE THINGS STRAIGHT.  
?CC: FIRST OFF, TEREZI, THIS IS THE SHITTIEST TROLLHANDLE I HAVE EVER SEEN.  
?CC: SECONDLY, COULD IT HAVED KILLED YOU TO BE LESS CRYPTIC WHEN YOU SENT THE PASSWORD TO *THIS* HANDLE ON YOUR MAIN TROLLHANDLE?  
?CC: SOMETHING BESIDES “1TS SO COOL TO COLL3CT THR33 XS, YOU C4N 4CC3SS TH3M BY TYP1NG TH3 N4M3 OF 4 DR4GON LUSUS”  
?CC: JUST  
?CC: HOW THE HELL WAS I SUPPOSED TO GET THAT?  
?CC: *HOW*???  
?AG: uH,  
?TC: TO 4NSW3R YOUR S3COND QU3ST1ON F1RST, _Y3S_ , 4CTU4LLY, 1T R34LLY _COULD_ H4V3 K1LL3D M3  
?TC: 4ND 1T COULD H4V3 K1LL3D YOU TOO  
?TC: 4ND T4VROS  
?TC: B3C4US3 4S H4S B33N M4D3 4PP4R3NT TO 4LL OF US, W3R3 B31NG CLOS3LY MON1TOR3D  
?TC: 4S FOR TH3 F1RST QU3ST1ON, 1T W4S _SUPPOS3D_ TO B3 SH1TTY, 1T W4S 4 JOK3 H4NDL3, YOU CL34RLY DONT UND3RST4ND TH4T  
?CC: JUST FUCKING SAYING  
?CC: THE ONLY REASON I WAS EVEN ABLE TO FIGURE OUT IT WAS A HANDLE YOU WERE TALKING ABOUT BEFORE YOU *BLOCKED* ME WAS THROUGH FINDING—BY COMPLETE CHANCE MIND YOU!—AN OLD LOG WITH THIS STUPID HANDLE ON YOUR GLASSES.  
?TC: TH4TS WHY 1 G4V3 YOU TH3 GL4SS3S 1N TH3 F1RST PL4C3 4SSHOL3!!!  >:[  
?CC: COULDN’T HAVE MADE *THAT* A BIT CLEARER EITHER???  
?CC: THE ONLY PART OF YOUR DIRECTIONS THAT MADE ANY SENSE WAS PUTTING IN “PYR4LSP1T3” AS A PASSWORD  
?TC: UGHHHHHH 1F YOUR3 GONN4 Y3LL 4T M3 FOR DUMB TH1NGS C4N YOU 4T L34ST NOT DO 1T 1N TH3 S4M3 COLOR 1M TYP1NG  
?TC: 1T M4K3S TH1NGS H4RD TO R34D  
?CC: YEAH, OKAY, YOU’RE RIGHT.  
?CC: COLOR CHANGED.  
?AG: oKAY, uH,  
?AG: sO,  
?AG: 1 THINK 1 HAVE A FEW QUESTIONS, fOR THE TWO OF YOU,  
?AG: tHAT REALLY NEED TO BE ANSWERED,  
?AG: l1KE, uM,  
?AG: wHO’S kARKAT’S MO1RA1L???  
?AG: aND WHY DON’T 1 KNOW ABOUT H1M?  
?AG: 1 MEAN,  
?AG: 1 KNOW KARKAT AND 1 HAVE, uH,  
?AG: nEVER BEEN THAT CLOSE,  
?AG: bUT,  
?TC: 1T H4S NOTH1NG TO DO W1TH CLOS3N3SS T4VROS  
?AG: uH, wHAT?  
?TC: B3C4US3 1 WOULD CONS1D3R MYS3LF PR3TTY CLOS3 TO K4RK4T H3R3, 4ND Y3ST3RD4Y W4S TH3 F1RST 1V3 3V3R H34RD OF TH1S “N3CK-T4HN” GUY!!!!  
?CC: IT’S SPELLED “NEKTAN”  
?TC: 1 DONT C4R3 HOW 1TS SP3LL3D!!!  
?AG: wA1T,  
?AG: tEREZ1 DOESN’T KNOW H1M E1THER???  
?TC: NO, 1 DONT!!  
?TC: WHO 1S H3, K4RK4T?  
?TC: 1S H3 3V3N _R34L???_  
?TC: OR 1S H3 SOM3 F4K3 P3RSON YOU 4ND _3R1D4N_ M4D3 UP!!!?  
?AG: wA1T, wHAT?  
?AG: wHAT DOES eR1DAN HAVE TO DO W1TH ANY OF TH1S???  
?CC: TEREZI, THAT’S A GROSS ACCUSATION  
?TC: 1S 1T!!!?  
?TC: YOU FR34K3D OUT 4T M3 TH1NK1NG 1 SOM3HOW FORG3D YOUR 1MP3R14L M3SS4G3, Y3T 1T S33MS PR3TTY CL34R YOU KN3W 4 LOT OF STUFF B3FOR3 1 D1D!!!  
?TC: 1M ST4RT1NG TO TH1NK YOU W3R3 LY1NG TH3 WHOL3 T1ME!!!!  
?TC: WHO 4M _1_ TO KNOW YOU 4ND 3R1D4N D1DNT FORG3 SOM3 F4K3 P3RSONS 1D3NT1TY TO B3 YOUR F4K3 MO1R41L!!???!?  
?AG: uHHHH,  
?AG: nONE OF TH1S 1S ANSWER1NG, tHE QUEST1ONS 1’VE ASKED,  
?AG: aND 1N FACT, 1S JUST RA1S1NG FURTHER QUEST1ONS, }:/  
?CC: TEREZI, WHY THE FUCK WOULD I LIE ABOUT FREAKING OUT TO YOU?  
?CC: EXACTLY WHAT WOULD MY MOTIVE BE FOR DOING THAT?  
?CC: ESPECIALLY CONSIDERING THIS WHOLE NEKTAN BUSINESS HAS ONLY MADE THINGS CONSIDERABLY *MORE* DIFFICULT FOR ME???  
?CC: TRUST ME WHEN I SAY I DIDN’T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT IT UNTIL NEAR SUNSET YESTERDAY WHEN ERIDAN AND I MET  
?AG: wHAT ARE YOU GUYS TALK1NG ABOUT!?  
?AG: wHY 1S eR1DAN 1NVOLVED!?  
?TC: 1 DONT KNOW WHY YOU WOULD L13  
?TC: BUT 1 KNOW 3R1D4N W4S H3LP1NG YOU  
?TC: 4ND 1 KNOW _H3_ H4S 3V3RY R34SON TO L13  
?TC: SO HOW DO 1 KNOW YOU 4ND H1M DONT H4V3 SOM3 S3CR3T SCH3M3 CONCOCT3D TO M4K3 SUR3 YOU B3COM3 THR3SH3CUT1ON1NG G3N3R4L!?  
?TC: HOW DO 1 KNOW YOU D1DNT PL4N TH1S WHOL3 TH1NG!!!!????  
?CC: ARE YOU *SERIOUS*!?  
?CC: YOU’RE SERIOUS, AREN’T YOU!?  
?CC: DO YOU REALLY BELIEVE THAT I AND ERIDAN BOTH FORMULATED A SECRET PLAN TO INCITE A REBELLION AND PUT ALL OF OUR FRIENDS’ LIVES IN JEOPARDY ***JUST SO I COULD BE A THRESHECUTIONING GENERAL!!?***  
?AG: sTOP!!!!!!!!!!!!  
?AG: sTOP STOP STOP STOP STOP!!!!!!!!!  
?AG: sTOP WHATEVER YOU’RE TYP1NG OR,,,  
?AG: wHATEVER!!!!!  
?AG: jUST _STOP!!!!!!!!_  
?AG: tEREZ1, yOU MAY NOT KNOW, aBOUT nEKTAN OR WHOEVER,  
?AG: bUT 1 KNOW THE LEAST AMOUNT OF TH1NGS ABOUT TH1S!!!  
?AG: aND,  
?AG: 1 HAVE TO F1LE A REPORT, aBOUT nEPETA,  
?AG: aND ABOUT SOMEONE 1 DON’T EVEN KNOW!  
?AG: aND 1 DON’T EVEN KNOW WHY, oR WHAT 1’M SUPPOSED TO SAY!!!  
?AG: aND WHAT ANY OF TH1S HAS TO DO W1TH eR1DAN, bEYOND WHAT’S ALREADY BEEN SA1D TO ME!!!  
?AG: 1 DON’T KNOW ANYTH1NG ABOUT THE PLANS OR SCHEMES OR ANYTH1NG L1KE THAT!!!  
?AG: aND 1F 1 DON’T KNOW ABOUT ANY OF THAT, tHEN 1 WON’T KNOW WHAT TO SAY, aND 1’LL MESS UP!!!!  
?AG: aND 1F 1 MESS UP THEN,  
?AG: tHEN,  
?AG: aLL OF US ARE GONNA D1E!!!!  
?TC: ...  
?CC: ...  
?AG: 1 JUST,  
?AG: 1 NEED TO KNOW, uH,  
?AG: aBOUT ALL OF THESE TH1NGS, tHAT ARE HAPPEN1NG,  
?AG: sO 1 DON’T MESS UP,,,  
?AG: tHAT’S ALL, }:(  
?AG: ,,,1’M, uH,  
?AG: sORRY,  
?TC: NO T4VROS  
?TC: YOU H4V3 4 R1GHT TO KNOW 4BOUT 4LL TH1S  
?TC: 1TS ONLY F41R FOR K4RK4T TO F1LL YOU 1N F1RST, 4BOUT H1S D34L W1TH 3R1D4N  
?TC: 4ND TH3N W3 C4N GO FROM TH3R3  
?CC: ...YEAH.  
?CC: YEAH, OKAY.  
?CC: JUST...  
?CC: LET’S START FROM THE TOP.  
?CC: TAVROS?  
?AG: uMMM,  
?CC: I’M NOT GONNA LIE, WHAT I’M ABOUT TO TELL YOU IS...PRETTY FUCKING MAJOR.  
?CC: BUT...I *THINK* YOU’RE A TRUSTWORTHY GUY  
?CC: I MEAN, YOU STEPPED UP TO THE PLATE PRETTY WELL NOT ONLY YESTERDAY BUT TODAY  
?TC: YOU D1D! 3SP3C14LLY Y3ST3RD4Y  >:]  
?CC: BUT I JUST  
?CC: YOU NEED TO *PROMISE ME* THIS WON’T LEAVE THIS GROUP CHAT.  
?CC: YOU NEED TO SWEAR ON YOUR LIFE AND EVERYTHING YOU LOVE AND CARE ABOUT THAT YOU WILL NOT TALK TO ANYONE EXCEPT FOR TEREZI AND I ABOUT THIS  
?AG: ,,,  
?AG: uHHHHHH,,,  
?CC: FUCKING *SWEAR* TAVROS!!!!  
?AG: oKAY!! uH,,,,  
?AG: 1 SWEAR THAT,  
?AG: 1 WON’T TELL ANYONE,  
?AG: wHATEVER YOU’RE ABOUT TO TELL ME, }:/  
?CC: ...OKAY.  
?CC: YOU KNOW HOW I’VE BEEN PRESENTING MYSELF AS A GREEN BLOOD?  
?CC: AND HOW OUR NEW “COMMANDER” HAS REFERRED TO ME AS A GREEN BLOOD, AND HOW MY SHIRT’S SYMBOL WAS GREEN, AND...  
?CC: YOU KNOW. ALL OF THAT?  
?AG: uHHHH,,,,,  
?CC: WELL...MY REAL BLOOD COLOR ISN’T GREEN.  
?CC: IT’S THIS COLOR.  
?CC: ...I’M A BLOOD MUTANT, TAVROS.  
?AG: ,,,,  
?AG: ,,,,oKAY, uH,  
?AG: wHAT THE FUCK,

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Welp_.


	4. Fear and Wrath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double chapter update! YEAH!!!!
> 
> The next chapter is where I did more editing because of its relative shortness, while this chapter--being honest here--was kinda rushed. It's not that I wasn't feeling it because I've honestly been SUPER EXCITED to write this chapter for a lot of reasons. A lot of stuff has been happening to me in a short period of time that made it nearly impossible for me to write, and it finally got to the point of having to be like, "Either I stall this for another month or I say 'fuck it' and just get it finished so I can give you guys SOMETHING." And while I'd normally opt for the route of "get it done at my own pace so I can write something decent," it felt really shitty of me to already be done with the next chapter yet have you wait for this one. Thus, I went for the latter route of "just get it done."
> 
> That being said, I'll probably come back to this chapter and edit things. I doubt I'll edit anything major in terms of the actual story, just general edits I usually do when I reread the story every now and then (especially in sentence structure, making certain things clearer/more coherent, etc.), and maybe change some things dealing more with canon consistency (but then we're treading ever further away from canon as we continue this story--not that it could ever have been considered even slightly "canonical" in the first place, LOL). And I also apologize for its "rushed-ness," its really not something I wanna get in the habit of. I've already been kinda slacking on editing duties, and I'd hate for this to suffer any more than it already has.

CA

 

-Five Sweeps Prior-

 

“ _Fef?_ ”

Your voice was smaller than you care to admit.  Vulnerable even.  Even if you _wanted_ her to feel bad for you, there was no way she would have heard it from her vantage point in the ocean, and yours on the shore.

It was your fear talking.

Dark blue waves moved in from the sea, and then receded back to its depths.  As another wave washed upon the shore, you attempted—delicately—to put your big toe in the water before it left completely.

A flash of lightning darted across the grey sky, and the roar of thunder came with it two seconds after, causing you to flinch and retreat your foot.  Awful—awful, how scared you were.

“ _COME ON, ERIDAN!_ ” Fef, your only friend, a girl you had met a few seasons ago, called out to you playfully, further out into the ocean—further than you had ever dared to go.  “You’re a _SEA DWELLER_ , don’t you know how to _SWIM!?_ ”

Of course you did.  What a silly thought.  It wasn’t swimming that was an issue, how could she even think that?  Anger was enough to stop you from being a coward for two seconds.

“It ain’t _that_ , Fef!” you hollered back to her.  “God, could you _be_ any more assumptive!?”

“Then why aren’t you going in the ocean, _hmmmm!?_ ” she yelled in the same irritating way she always had—that way where it’s obvious she thinks she knows _everything_ , but really she _doesn’t_ and _God_ did that annoy you about her.  (Well.  Still does.)

But that’s not what really bothered you.  What truly, _truly_ hurt was that you had no retort.  Because the alternative was telling her exactly why you didn’t want to go in, and that was _not_ going to happen under _any_ circumstances.

But you didn’t have one.  So you stood on the shore silently, watching the waves go back and forth.

“ _ERIFIIIIN!!!  Water you WADING for!?_ ”

You honestly didn’t care enough to tell her how stupid that nickname she gave you was, nor how stupid her puns were.  Not then.  Not even your anger could stop your thoughts.  All you could think about was how terrified you were, how _pathetic_ you were, how you couldn’t rationalize to yourself why you couldn’t do something so simple.  How pathetic _she_ must find _you_.

And then, torn between the fear of what this girl Feferi Peixes thought of you, and the fear you couldn’t speak aloud, you did something really stupid.

You started to cry.

 

-Present Day-

 

After you came to, it wasn’t calm, cooing Fef, but the rustblood Aradia Megido who briefed you on the situation.

The ship had crashed, somewhere on the outskirts of the Landing.  You were knocked unconscious after a ship’s missile blew you out of the sky.  Your lusii were fine, though for all she or anyone knows, the other lusii were probably dead or wounded.

Not that you think anyone in the empire particularly gives a shit about a bunch of lusii, even if they belonged to noblemen.  Not compared to betraying the Empress, anyway.

The trolls, while you were unconscious, also decided to get away from the crash site as soon as possible, travelling through thick forestry as Skyhorse carried you on his back.  Well.  _Most_ of the trolls decided this.  Eq was still about as unwilling as any other, insisting everyone go back and beg the Condesce’s forgiveness, like a fucking idiot.  The entire way he kept insisting that as he and his green-blooded moirail continued to argue with each other.  Finally, Nep apparently stopped even bothering to say anything back, while Eq continued to argue to practically no one until his voice was completely hoarse.  His influence was hardly swaying, to say the very least.

It wasn’t until the sun was at its highest point in the sky, and the group had reached a clearing that Fef made her request to stop.  It was probably not the safest decision, with so much sun around and with what you assume is a good chunk of the imperial army hot on your trail, but probably because she was the unofficial leader at this point, the rest of the trolls listened.  Even Eq apparently didn’t fight it.

It was, according to Ara, the first time she had really said anything since you went unconscious.  Apparently, Princess “I’m-gonna-start-a-rebellion-against-the-Condesce” Peixes had given nary a word about her plans or schemes for what to do about this little revolution she started, simply following the suggestions of Ara and Nep.

“Revolution.”  Even calling it that is a fucking joke.  A revolution at least deals with respectable, if ultimately hopeless forces calling for change.  This?  This is just four trolls and an Heiress who couldn’t be a rebel leader even if she wanted to be.

Ara says you should feel lucky you’re alive, but you know that, much like magic, luck doesn’t exist, belonging to the realm of wet dreams for fools and morons.  And even if such a ridiculous thing DID exist, you certainly wouldn’t call being forced into a situation of futility “luck.”  There was no luck in not dying when you’re already destined for the noose at this point.

And anyway, even if you were short-sighted enough to be grateful about being alive, there was one thing keeping you distracted from gratitude: Fef’s silence.

Fef, who apparently hadn’t said anything about what she was planning.  Fef, who _isn’t_ saying anything now.

Fef, who’s to blame for _everything_.

You can’t believe she never told you.  You can’t believe she lied.  You can’t believe she would do something so ridiculously foolish, that _she_ of all people would try to scheme something as stupid as this.

But more than that…you can’t believe you ran to her side anyway.  That you would throw away everything you had worked for, everything you had _done_ , for _her_.  Like a fucking idiot.

But a thought occurs to you.  What other _choice_ did you have?  If you’re meant to be her moirail, abandoning her would’ve been unforgivable.  And if she returned your red feelings, you would’ve never even _thought_ of turning away.

…Of course, she _isn’t_ red for you.  Nor are you truly pale for her.

And that only serves to make you angrier at her.

Even with your consciousness and your anger stewing, however, Fef stays away from you and the others under her own tree (apparently content to know you’re alive and nothing else), while the rest of you mostly stay under a group of trees on the other side.  She doesn’t even _care_ that your life is ruined because of her.

Though you only note them to try and distract yourself and otherwise couldn’t care less, the others among your side of trees seem malcontent too.  Ara seems patient, sitting under the shade of a tree next to her ram lusus, but fidgety nonetheless.  You also noted frustration in her tone when she told you Fef hadn’t said anything to the rest of you. Nep seems equally disgruntled, pouting in the shade of some trees a few feet away from you and the others, but you’re apt to believe that she’s pouting mostly because of her moirail, considering she has intentionally sat as far as she possibly could from him, and with her back turned to him.  Her feline lusus is curled up next to her, napping, and occasionally Nep absent-mindedly pets her.  And Eq, of course, has many reasons to be upset, but he seems to be just as upset at Feferi’s lack of forthcomingness, he facing directly toward her with his hands steepled and brow furrowed in thought, while his stupid musclebeast lusus stands next to him.  All things considered, he appears rather calm, giving the image of a man dutifully waiting for their superior to speak, not moving about or otherwise outwardly _appearing_ disgruntled, though you’re sure from his occasional grunts and sighs that he is.  (You think a working definition of irony is a troll who worships the hemospectrum, who should despise Fef for opposing it not only in her speech but in her very _existence_ , respects Fef’s place somewhere above them on the hemospectrum too strongly to truly act against her.) 

Which of course leaves you, glaring daggers at Fef, hoping she can feel the brunt of your silent fury, all while your own lusus floats behind you.

Hours pass, and still she says nothing.  Ara and Nep sleep for a little bit then wake, while Fef continues to look away from everyone.  Even Eq seems to drift, his head nodding slowly off but snapping back to attention just as quickly.  The sun passes through the sky slowly, painfully, and still Fef stays quiet.  All the while, you are awake, your anger stewing slowly until it feels like a raging boil and at sunset you think you might rush at her and start shaking her for an explanation, for an apology, for _anything_ —

And it’s once the sun is about to drop that she finally moves, stands up, and crosses the clearing to meet you at your spot.  The rest of the group starts upright almost immediately as she comes toward you all, but you remain sitting.  After everything, you think Fef doesn’t deserve the respect of you standing up for her.  In fact, you keep glaring at her all the same, ensuring that whenever her eyes chance upon yours, she’ll realize just how much she’s fucked you over.

She stops in front of all of you, under the shade of your own tree.  As you all look to her, she begins her talk with a deep breath.

“Okay,” she starts softly.  “So…I’m _shore_ everyone is thinking I may have something to share, like _strategy_ or _plans_ …”

The notion that you all should have expected a strategy meeting, combined with her using puns _at a time like this_ , bothers you enough to audibly scoff.  Really, plans?  Strategies?  Maybe _they_ expect it from her, but you?  You’re expecting an apology for wasted time, and well wishes for all of your eventual cullings.  The fact of the matter is, the situation is hopeless no matter what, and you know it as well as her.

“…but the truth is…” she continues, and you know already know what she’s going to say.  “…The truth is, what I had planned was something that…didn’t end up happening.”

And here it comes.

“My plan for my speech was this: urge the common people to raise arms up against the Condesce, with the hope that seeing someone like _me_ support them would make them more willing to fight.”

Thinking that she alone could motivate the masses into action.  Typical Fef.

“Well…” Ara interjects.  “That’s…exactly what happened, isn’t it?  We came, and supported you.  Or I guess I should say, Nepeta did, and I tagged along with her.”

Eq grunts at the mention of this, which causes Nep to huff in response.  Eq adds to what Ara says.

“ _I_ am still an unwilling participant in this, and am of the opinion that we should go back and grovel at the Empress’s feet _immediately_.”

Ara shoots him a cold look.  You barely stop yourself from laughing—it’s only your anger at Fef that makes it possible for you not to.

“…Yes,” Fef finally states, “you did come to me.  But…really, I expected…more.  I don’t mean to disrespect or otter-wise _belittle_ the things you all have done, but…truly speaking, this isn’t enough to do anything substantial at all.”

And there it is.  All the pointlessness of this endeavor put into clear words.  Five people don’t mean shit to the empire, even if one of them is the Heiress.  The other three seem to grow silent at this—even Eq doesn’t bother adding anything.

Even though it validates your anger, it also leaves a sinking feeling knowing she just confirmed how hopeless this all is…how pathetic you all are for doing what you did.

“…There was another part to the plan.”

Fef’s statement brings your attention to her again.

“Or really…” she starts.  “It was an addendum to what would happen if things did not work out.  This was what I expected more than people joining my cause.”

This is actually surprising to hear.  You had just assumed she was doing this all willy nilly, assuming naively that it would all go according to plan.  But a failsafe plot?

“If no one was willing to fight—which I felt would be the case any-wave…the Condesce would cull me, and I would die willingly at her hand.”

If Nep didn’t gasp, you would have.  The full brunt of this revelation hits you, and hits you hard.  It’s nothing like you’ve ever heard Fef say—not endlessly, almost sickeningly optimistic Fef.

“I had stopped feeding my lusus,” she explains and suddenly it makes sense why she wouldn’t let you feed her, “you see.  I also stopped Eridan, my sole Orphaner, from feeding her.  At this point, she’s hungry enough to accept food from anyone, including the Condesce and _her_ Orphaners, and she has no doubt already done so, considering we’re all alive.

“My lusus offered me protection from the Condesce.  By not feeding her, I thought would give the Condesce an oppor-tuna-ty to cull me then and there.  The way I saw it…it was either continuing to do her bidding and the bidding of my exhausting lusus until sweeps later when she would no doubt cull me, or make my own path—carve my own destiny, I guess—and force her hand now.  That way…at the very least, my fate would have been my own.”

You should have forced her to let you feed her lusus.  You should have fed her lusus even without her permission.  You should have done a lot of things.

But you didn’t.

“I know it doesn’t make sense,” she explains.  “Not to any of you.  But those were my thoughts—that was my logic after spending my entire life serving the wishes of others.  For once, I wanted to do something for _me_.”

Then, looking away slightly, she continues quietly.

“…But I was _shellfish_ ,” she says.  “I realize that now.  I’ve dragged you all into this with me, and…and doomed us _all_.”

Then, bowing her head in the sincerest form of apology royalty like her could show, she speaks again.

“I am _so sorry_ ,” she says.  “To _all_ of you.  But…your efforts are for naught.  I’m sorry I couldn’t offer you more.”

Again, you were expecting this.  An apology for everything.

But now that you got it…it doesn’t feel any _better_.  If anything, it leaves you with something you don’t like to feel, ever.

 _Fear_.

“I expected as much,” Eq says.  “With humblest regard, my Heiress, but it was quite clear—a hundred percent certainty, in fact—that this plan would have failed no matter what.  And while I appreciate the apology, I cannot find it within myself to forgive you.”

The fact _Eq_ says it before you can makes your stomache turn, knowing you don’t even have enough guts in you to say what you’re thinking.  You grapple with the overwhelming fear inside of you, fear that this is it, that it was all pointless and nothing will ever make it okay.

You think back to another time you were too scared to act, five sweeps prior, staring into an empty blue abyss of waves.

“But…” Ara starts, as if unable to process what has been said.  “But everything we did!  You’re saying…you _can’t_ be saying we’re _doomed_ , can you?…”

“We can _run!_ ” Nep interrupts quite emphatically.  “They—they never found my hive, you know?  Before the Great Gathering, they didn’t find it!  We just have to go _back_ there and…”

There’s no running from this.  You know it.

You put your face in your hands, trying to fight the fear of death off and keep your breathing even, though it gets harder with every passing second.

“We can keep running!” Nep continues with her foolhardy scheme.  “I already planned on running when I first got my letter, and I’m really purr-pared already!  And I can hunt, and I think Purr-idan can hunt too, and—”

“ _Nepeta, **stop it!**_ ” Eq reprimands her harshly.  “This concoction of yours to run from our fates is _ridiculous_ , and you _know it!_ ”

“It is _not_ ridiculous!” Nep counters.

“It is!” Eq snaps back.

It is ridiculous.  It’s pointless and hopeless and _fake_.

No, you will _not_ cry.

“ _No!_ ” Nep shoots back.

“ _Yes!_ ”

“ ** _NO!_** ”

“ ** _YES!_** ” Eq states with finalness.  “It is absolutely _pointless_ to go for any route beyond what I have said since the beginning—we go to Her Imperious Condescension herself and _beg_ for forgiveness!!!”

And then you can’t stop yourself.  You let it all out, every thing you’ve been keeping to yourself.

You start laughing—cackling, even.  You pull your head from the cradle of your hands to take a good look at the fools around you, looking at you like you’ve lost a nerve.

Even though it’s _so fucking obvious_ you’re the only one with any sense left.

“ _Really_ Eq??” you remark through laughter.  “You really— _truly_ —think that apologizing to our Condesce will do a _damn fuckin’ thing for us???_ ”

You stand upright, looking directly at him.  Despite having stayed up longer than any of them, your anger makes you unstoppable, even to fatigue.  You’re not 3 sweeps anymore, who cries at the idea of going into the ocean.  You’re 8—an adult—and _fuck_ if you’ve learned anything, it’s how to control your anger and turn that fear right back on others.

And the target now, of course, is the sweating blue blood Equius Zahhak.

“You know what we all are, Eq?” you start.  “We’re _traitors_.  Not just _any_ fuckin’ traitors, mind you—we’re wanted for a crime that has culled lessor people _just for being accused_.”

You look around to everyone, to make sure your point sticks.  You think you can burn holes straight through everyone with white hot fire with how you’re feeling, and you think they might believe you can with the looks on their faces.

Your eyes chance upon Fef’s for a moment, and they just briefly threaten to soften you before you look away again.

“We’re wanted for associatin’ with our _‘Miss Heiress Feferi Peixes’_ here,” you say, adding airquotes to Feferi’s name and being sure to make her name sound and feel as biting as possible.  You don’t even bother looking or motioning her way.  “This crime is considered the worst o’ them _all_.  An’ for us?  It ain’t just a simple _accusation_.  They got _li-win’ proof_ ” you enunciate your words and accent, if only to make yourself feel like you’re in control, “of our crimes on any tele-wision screen you can find.”  Even though you use the more formal term “television screen” instead of “visual projection monitor,” you think your point goes through.

“An’ you think,” you continue, “we can just stroll along to the next imperial ship an’ say, ‘O, _idled Condescension!_   _Please_ spare us your mercy!  We’re really, _really_ sorry about betrayin’ you an’ all, it was an _honest_ mistake, we _swear!_ ’”

Your mocking is enough to make Eq sweat more than he usually does.  He doesn’t bother trying to say anything as a retort.

“You’re a fucking _nameless blue blood_ ,” you bite at him.  “Nep’s some kitty cat shipper girl who’s lih-wh’d in a _cay-wh_ her whole goddamn life.  And Ara’s a rustblood slave who no one’s bound to gih-wh a single _shit_ about.”

“ _Eridan_.”

Fef’s low, stern voice, urging you to stay calm is heard, but ultimately ignored.

“There’s no begging for for-gih-wh-ness for us,” you say definitely.  “The only thing we got left is—”

“Which means the only thing we _can_ do is run away!”

Nep interrupts you, and you immediately turn your attention to her.  She says her piece excitedly, and even shoots a smug glance Eq’s way.

Her smugness…it’s what makes you almost go over the edge.

“‘Run away,’ Nep?” you respond.  “Is that what you think we should do?  _Run **away**!?_ ”

“ _Eridan!_ ”

You don’t even _know_ you’re lunging at her until Fef grabs you, holding you back from a cringing Nep.  But all of Fef’s strength doesn’t stop you from shouting at her.

“An’ _then_ what!?  We run an’ live in the fuckin’ _mountains_ and make dumbass shippy charts until the imperials _find us and cull us anyway!!?_ ”

You don’t even bother using your accent now.  You just need her to _know_ , know how much you could _kill_ and _slaughter_ everyone here and you could hardly give a damn if Eq tries to stop you, like he’s even trying as he watches and sweats like the maniac he is.

You feel something wet coming down your face, but you power through, still struggling against Fef’s grasp as _Ara_ of all people stands in front of you, the fucking no good _rustblood_ —

“ _Eridan!—that’s—ENOUGH!!!_ ” Fef struggles to say as you try to fight her grip.

“ _Don’t you get it!?  Don’t ANY o’ you fucking **get it!?**   It’s **OVER!!**   We’re all as good as fucking **DEAD!!!**_ ”

“ ** _ERIDAN!!!_** ”

“ ** _AND IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT FEF!!!_** ”

Things become suddenly still.  Fef doesn’t fight you anymore, and you don’t fight her.  Her grip loosens until she lets go completely, and you become painfully aware the water streaming down your face was your own tears.

Embarrassed or not, you turn to face Fef, _screaming_ at her.

“ _WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME!?_ ”

“Eridan, I—”

“ _Aren’t we fuckin’ MOIRAILS!?  Oh, I’m sorry, I mean **MORAY-EELS!!?**_ ”

“I’m…I just—”

“ _Why didn’t you let me feed your lusus before you made your dumb speech so you could have a fuckin’ leg to stand on!?  Why did you have to decide to commit **suicide** knowin’ I’d…I’d be without you!?_ ”

“Eridan, _please_ …”

At this point you’re all screamed out.  Instead you look at her, violet water clouding your eyes until finally, all you can manage is to bow your body and rest your head on her shoulder as you continue to sob.

“ _I’m gonna die, Fef…_ ” you squeak out.

“Eridan…”

“ _You w-were gonna die without me…_ ”

“I couldn’t…I couldn’t have asked you give everything up for me like that…”

“ _I lost EVERYTHING_ …”

“I’m sorry…”

“ _You can’t die I **need** you don’t you kn-know that…_ ”

“ _Shhhh…_ ”

Again, you feel like you’re three sweeps old, and you’ve made your first friend only recently, and she’s out in the sea waiting for you.  And you cry because the sea holds monsters, and you’re afraid they’ll kill and drown you when you aren’t looking.  You’re afraid of other sea dwellers, who would dare fight you for your superiority.  Up on land, you always _knew_ you were above them, but beneath the sea, on the same playing field…you could never be sure. And you just can’t go in. you _can’t._

And there comes Feferi Peixes, who you were sure would think you pathetic, swam back to the shore and let you cry and told you it’s okay, you don’t have to go in the water, stop crying you big baby…and ever since then you didn’t want to ever lose her. You _couldn’t_ ever lose her.

“I’m sorry,” Fef says as she soothes you, “to _all_ of you.  But…I can’t do anything for you now.  Without my lusus, and without the support of others…there’s nothing left.”

You continue to sob while the others no doubt watch you and her in awkward, mournful silence.  You all have no choice but to accept your fates on the culling block—you all must realize this now.

Inexplicably right then, you feel it.  At first, you think it’s your stomache or your imagination.  But you think—in that terrible part of your pan that still wants to hope—the thought crosses you.

You want to think it feels much like the rumble of a hungry monster.

 

-Three Sweeps Prior-

 

“ _Dualscaaaaaaaar_.”

You weren’t on the shore this time.  You were on Vris’s ship, about to walk the plank.

It was one of the agreements for what would happen if you lost, right next to her having your new ship.  Though really, you both knew your losing was unconditional, more of a _when_ than any kind of _“if.”_   You both knew that she was going to cheat and bend the rules however she saw fit.  And you both knew you were always going to take the bait, to try and prove her inferior.

 “What are you _waiting_ for?” she asked impatiently.

You looked down beneath the wooden plank, to see the open, expansive sea crashing against ~~your~~ _her_ ship, and all you could think about was that day 2 sweeps prior, when you were reminded of how pathetic and cowardly you were, and _God_ you hated, hated, _hated_ Vriska for this but even your wrath and fury wasn’t enough.  It wasn’t ever enough to stop the feeling completely.

_Water you WADING for?_

You didn’t get a chance to start crying before Vris pushed you off the plank herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry if Eridan’s quirk is hard to read phonetically. This is why with everyone else I just have them translate the v’s Eridan says to w’s in their mind. But since I headcanon Eridan's accent as intentional on his part, I decided to make his accent shown with him.
> 
> Now you know the pain of having this headcanon. The terrible, terrible pain.
> 
> (But for real, I hope I can make it more understandable later on. Writing progress!)


	5. Foolproof Plans

GC

? trialCorrections [TC] opened memo at [??:??] on board TROLLC4D14 D1SCUSS1ON _[glitch]_

?TC: 1S 4NYON3 ST1LL 4W4K3?  
?TC: 1 JUST W4NN4 M4K3 SUR3 W3 H4V3 3V3RYTH1NG F1GUR3D OUT 4ND OUR “N3P3T4” STOR13S M4TCH  
?TC: ...TH4T 4ND 1 C4NT SL33P  
? coolCollectorxxx [CC] responded to memo  
?CC: YES, BECAUSE REHASHING OUR COMBINED, CONVOLUTED TALE OF FRAUD AND DECEPTION FOR THE GOD-KNOWS-THE-COUNT TIME TODAY IS *CERTAINLY* ON MY LIST OF PRIORITIES  
?TC:  >:[  
?TC: TH3R3S NO N33D TO B3 SUCH 4N 4SS 4BOUT TH1S, 1 JUST W4NN4 B3 C4R3FUL K4RK4T  
?CC: AND WHO SAID I WAS INTENTIONALLY TRYING TO BE AN ASS ABOUT THIS?  
?CC: I CAN ASSURE YOU, TEREZI, THAT I AM ABSOLUTELY SERIOUS ABOUT MAKING SURE THIS DELICATELY WOVEN FABRICATION OF OURS IS AIR TIGHT. THERE IS ABSOLUTELY NO BULLSHIT ASS-PLAY GOING ON FROM MY SIDE OF THIS CONVERSATION.  
?TC: 1GNOR1NG HOW GROSS WH4T YOU JUST S41D 1S...  
?TC: ...YOU _DO_ H4V3 YOUR STORY DOWN, R1GHT?  
?CC: YES  
?CC: BASICALLY, WHEN IT COMES TO THE SUBJECT OF OUR DEAR FRIEND NEPETA, WE WILL ALL BE AS HONEST AS POSSIBLE ABOUT HOW WE FELT ABOUT HER, AND HOW CLOSE WE WERE TO HER.  
?CC: THE ONLY THINGS WE’RE GOING TO OMIT IS OUR OWN RELATIONSHIPS TO EVERYONE ELSE, AS WELL AS ONLY *BARELY* LIE ABOUT HOW WE FEEL ABOUT HER AND EQUIUS.  
?CC: OR AT THE VERY LEAST *I* WILL BE BARELY LYING ABOUT THAT  
?CC: BECAUSE TO BE PERFECTLY HONEST RIGHT NOW, ALL THE BAD STUFF I HAVE TO SAY ABOUT EQUIUS WON’T REALLY BE ME LYING.  
?TC: UGH, M3 N31TH3R  >:[  
?TC: 1 H4V3 NO 1D34 WHY 4NY OF OUR FR13NDS 3V3R THOUGHT N3P3T4 4ND 3QU1US W3R3 GOOD TOG3TH3R  
?TC: H3 W4S 4LW4YS SO M34N TO H3R!!!  
?CC: WELL...I WAS MORE TALKING ABOUT MY PERSONAL OPINION OF *HIM*, BUT  
?CC: IF YOU *REALLY* WANNA KNOW HOW I FEEL ABOUT NEPETA AND EQUIUS’S MOIRALLEGIANCE  
?TC: UGH, NO 1 DONT W4NN4 KNOW, K33P YOUR LONG-W1ND3D SP13L 4BOUT 1T TO YOURS3LF  
?CC: FINE. REFUSE TO LET ME EDUCATE YOU, SEE IF I CARE.  
?TC: ST1LL, YOU H4V3 TO B3 V4GU3 4BOUT 1T  
?CC: ABOUT WHAT?  
?TC: WH4T DO YOU TH1NK, DUMMY!?  
?TC: 3QU1US  
?TC: YOU C4NT B3 R34LLY SP3C1F1C L1K3  
?TC: “H3 W4S 4 HUG3 CR33PY GUY WHO H4D 4 SW34T1NG PROBL3M 4ND W4S 4 B1GOT3D H3MOC4ST3IST”  
?TC: OR 4NYTH1NG L1K3 TH4T  
?TC: 1M L1M1T1NG WH4T 1 S4Y 4BOUT H1M TO “N3P3T4 TOLD M3 SOM3 TROUBL1NG TH1NGS 4BOUT H1M ONC3 4ND 3V3R S1NC3 TH3N 1 W4S 4D4M4NT TH4T SH3 SHOULD L34V3 H1M”  
?TC: 3R  
?TC: M1NUS TH3 QU1RK >:x  
?CC: YEAH, MINE’S BASICALLY THE SAME  
?CC: THOUGH A BIT MORE DETACHED FROM NEPETA THAN YOURS  
?CC: ALL I’M SAYING IS NEPETA AND I KNEW EACH OTHER, AND SHE TALKED ABOUT EQUIUS SOMETIMES AND I THOUGHT HE SOUNDED LIKE A FUCKING ASSHOLE  
?CC: AND NO, I’M NOT GOING TO DO THAT MINUS MY “QUIRK,” I’M GONNA SHOUT THAT ACROSS THE VACCUUM OF SPACE SO THAT OUR ENTIRE GALACTIC EMPIRE CAN HEAR ME  
?TC: *S1GH*  
?TC: 1 KNOW T4VROS 1S GO1NG TO T4LK 4BOUT P3OPL3 SH3 M1GHT H4V3 B33N 1N C4HOOTS W1TH 4ND 3QU1US’S “FL4RP1NG,” SOOO...  
?TC: HOP3FULLY TH3 STOR13S W1LL CORROBOR4T3 W3LL  
?CC: OKAY, SO I KNOW YOU’VE BEEN OVER IT COUNTLESS TIMES WITH TAVROS AND I TOGETHER, AND ODDS ARE YOU’RE GOING TO HAVE TO REPRESS THE URGE TO GROAN AT MY IMPUDENT IGNORANCE, BUT  
?CC: WHY ARE WE EVEN LYING ABOUT EQUIUS FLARPING?  
?TC: B3C4US3 TH4TS TH3 34S13ST W4Y W3 C4N POT3NT14LLY CONN3CT H1M TO 3R1D4N 4ND OUR H31R3SS  
?TC: 1T 4LSO CONN3CTS 4R4D14 TO TH3M 4S W3LL  
?TC: L34V1NG N3P3T4 4S, 4G41N, 4 POOR V1CT1M OF C1RCUMST4NC3 4ND 4N UNH34LTHY MO1R4LL3G14NC3  
?CC: AND EVEN SO I STILL HAVE *ANOTHER* QUESTION  
?CC: WHY DOES IT MATTER IF WE CONNECT THEM ALL AS BEING IN CAHOOTS WITH ONE ANOTHER? WE’RE NOT EVEN BEING ASKED TO TALK ABOUT THEM, AND AS FAR AS THE EMPIRE KNOWS, WE DON’T EVEN KNOW THEM.  
?TC: W3 DONT H4V3 TO  
?TC: TH4TS JUST HOW TH3 COND3SC3 1S GO1NG TO R34D 1NTO 1T  
?TC: ...HOP3FULLY 4NYW4Y >:[  
?CC: AND ALSO, BACKTRACKING A LITTLE HERE  
?CC: WHY IN GOD’S HORRIBLE NAME ARE WE STICKING TO THIS RIDICULOUS “POOR, DEAR, SWEET NEPETA” SCHTICK??  
?CC: NOT THAT I NECESSARILY HATE HER, OR THAT I DON’T FEEL BAD FOR HER, BUT  
?CC: IT JUST SEEMS KIND OF POINTLESS  
?CC: WE BOTH KNOW SHE’S AS GOOD AS CULLED NO MATTER WHAT WE SAY  
?TC: WH4T 4R3 YOU T4LK1NG 4BOUT?  
?CC: JUST THAT  
?CC: I MEAN, IT SEEMS A LITTLE POINTLESS IS ALL TO GO ON THIS CRUSADE OF TRYING TO CLEAR NEPETA’S GOOD NAME SO TO SPEAK  
?TC: PL33334S3, K4RK4T, DO YOU R34LLY TH1NK TH4TS WH4T TH1S 1S 4BOUT? TH4T 1M TRY1NG TO _S4V3_ H3R?  
?TC: DONT G3T M3 WRONG, N3P3T4 W4S 4LW4YS 4 GOOD FR13ND OF M1N3, BUT SH3S GU1LTY OF SOM3 S3R1OUS CR1M3S, 4ND QU1T3 FR4NKLY 1S 4 B1G P4RT OF TH3 R34SON 4LL OF US 4R3 1N TH1S POS1T1ON  
?TC: TH3 ONLY R34SON W3R3 ST1CK1NG W1TH TH3 “POOR, SW33T N3P3T4” TH1NG 1S SO TH3 COND3SC3 H4S NO R34SON TO B3L13V3 W3R3 GU1LTY OF DO1NG 4NYTH1NG W1TH TH3 OTH3RS  
?TC: TH4T W3V3 4LW4YS B33N SO D3VOT3D TO TH3 3MP1R3 TH4T W3 WOULD N3V3R H4V3 L3T 4 GOOD FR13ND OF OURS JO1N FORC3S W1TH TH3 H31R3SS 1F W3 COULD H4V3 STOPP3D 1T  
?TC: 1TS SUPPOS3D TO W1N SYMP4THY PO1NTS FOR _US_ , NOT H3R  
?CC: ...  
?CC: FORGIVE ME IF I’M JUST READING TOO DEEP INTO THIS, BUT  
?CC: YOU SEEM...  
?CC: JUST A *TAD* BIT BITTER  
?TC: W3LL M4YB3 1 4M!!!  
?TC: F3F3R1, 3R1D4N, 4R4D14, N3P3T4, 4ND H3R STUP1D MO1R41L D3C1D3 TO ST4RT SOM3 DUMB UPR1S1NG, 4ND TH3 R3ST OF US H4V3 TO D34L W1TH 1T!?  
?TC: W3 H4V3 TO B3 M4K1NG UP TH3S3 L13S 4ND H4V1NG OUR F4T3S CH4NG3D JUST SO W3 C4N ST4Y 4L1V3, WH1L3 TH3Y GO OFF PL4Y1NG R3B3LS???  
?TC: 4ND 3V3N W1TH TH1S STORY, TH3R3S NO GU4R4NT33 TH4T TH3YLL 3V3N B3L13V3 US B3C4US3  
?CC: ?  
?CC: BECAAAAAUSE?????  
?TC: *S1GH* N3V3RM1ND  
?CC: OH NO, DON’T LEAVE ME HANGING RIGHT THERE, TEREZI  
?CC: DO *NOT* LEAVE IT AT THAT!!  
?CC: DO NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCE ASSUME THAT DROPPING IT AT “TH3R3S NO GU4R4NT33 TH4T TH3YLL 3V3N B3L13V3 US B3C4US3” IS ANYWHERE NEAR THE VICINITY OF ACCEPTABLE PLACES TO DROP THAT CONVERSATION!!!  
?TC: 1T DO3SNT M4TT3R, OK4Y  
?TC: YOUR3 4LR34DY S3COND-GU3SS1NG TH1S, TH3R3S NO PO1NT S4Y1NG 4NYTH1NG MOR3 4BOUT TH1S  
?CC: ...  
?CC: LOOK, I’M GOING TO RISK POSSIBLY LOOKING LIKE A WIGGLERISH MORON TO GET, AS THE KIDS SOMETIMES PUT IT, “REAL” WITH YOU HERE  
?CC: I’M STRESSED THE FUCK OUT OF MY GODDAMN THINKPAN, OKAY?  
?CC: I’M USUALLY AN ASSHOLE WHEN I’M IN A *GOOD* MOOD, AND THE FACT THAT RIGHT NOW I’M SO TERRIFIED THAT EVERY TIME I TYPE A NEW MESSAGE I HAVE TO LOOK OVER MY SHOULDER TO MAKE SURE SOME BLUE-BLOODED GUARD DOESN’T BUST MY DOOR DOWN AND SHOOT ME POINT BLANK IN THE FACE...  
?CC: WELL, TO PUT IT SIMPLY, I PROBABLY SOUND EVEN *MORE* LIKE AN ASSHOLE THAN USUAL  
?TC: >:?  
?CC: THE POINT IS  
?CC: I’M NOT SECOND-GUESSING YOU. AT ALL.  
?CC: AND IGNORING FOR A MOMENT THAT TAVROS IS THE MOST TIMID, INSECURE, BORDERLINE HELPLESS PERSON WE KNOW, I GET THE FEELING HE ISN’T SECOND-GUESSING YOU EITHER  
?CC: WE BOTH ARE PRETTY WELL AWARE THAT YOU’RE THE ONLY PERSON WHO’S SMART ENOUGH TO PULL THIS OFF  
?CC: AND IF ANYTHING I JUST NEED...REASSURANCE  
?CC: THAT WE’RE ALL IN THIS HELLHOLE TOGETHER  
?CC: I TRUST YOU IN THIS, OKAY?  
?CC: SO TRUST *ME*  
?TC: ...  
?TC: GUUUUUGH  
?TC: 1TS JUST  
?TC: OK4Y, SO W3 KNOW TH4T B4S1C4LLY OUR L1V1NG P4ST TH1S WHOL3 TH1NG 1S COND1T1ON4L ON WH3TH3R W3 C4N G3T TH3 OTH3RS TR13D FOR TH31R CR1M3S 4ND CULL3D  
?CC: PLEASE DON’T REMIND ME  
?TC: BUT TH4TS NOT 4LL 1M P1CK1NG UP ON  
?TC: Y3ST3RD4Y 1N TH3 M33T1NG BLOCK 1 GOT 4 B4D F33L1NG 4BOUT M1SS 4SS4HM O1STOS  
?CC: WHAT DO YOU MEAN?  
?TC: 1 M34N TH4T 3V3N THOUGH TH3 COND3SC3 H4S 4LR34DY G1V3N US 4N OPPORTUN1TY TO R3D33M OURS3LV3S FOR TH3 3MP1R3, W3R3 ST1LL B31NG TR34T3D L1K3 SUSP3CTS  
?CC: WELL YEAH, NO SHIT  
?CC: CONSIDERING THE SEVERITY OF WHAT WE WERE ACCUSED OF, IT MAKES SENSE THEY WOULD BE DOWN OUR PROTEIN CHUTES ABOUT THIS  
?CC: BUT ALL WE HAVE TO DO IS MAKE SURE OUR REPORTS TELL ROUGHLY THE SAME STORY AND WE’RE *OFF THE HOOK*, PARDON THE PUN.  
?CC: OR AT LEAST...OFF THE HOOK UNTIL WE HAVE TO...YOU KNOW  
?TC: 1TS NOT TH4T S1MPL3 1 TH1NK  
?TC: TH3 W4Y OUR BLU3 BLOOD3D COMM4ND3R TR34T3D US Y3ST3RD4Y M4K3S M3 TH1NK SH3...SUSP3CTS SOM3TH1NG  
?TC: OR KNOWS SOM3TH1NG W3 DONT  
?TC: 1N TH3 M33T1NG BLOCK 1 COULDNT SH4K3 TH3 F33L1NG TH4T  
?TC: TH4T W3 W3R3 ST1LL B31NG 1NT3RROG4T3D  
?TC: 4ND SH3S JUST W41T1NG FOR TH3 MOM3NT W3 SL1P UP OR, 3V3N WORS3, 4 MOM3NT TO R3V34L WH4T SH3 KNOWS 4BOUT US  
?CC: BUT...WHY?  
?CC: WHY WAIT FOR SOME UNKNOWN MOMENT WHERE SHE CAN REVEAL THIS INCRIMINATING PIECE OF INFORMATION SHE HAS ON US, OR UNTIL WE SOMEHOW FUCK IT UP OURSELVES?  
?CC: WHY NOT JUST TELL THE CONDESCE AND GET IT OVER WITH?  
?TC: M4YB3 SH3 DO3SNT H4V3 PROOF?  
?TC: BUT TH3N TH4T WOULDNT M4K3 S3NS3 B3C4US3 WHY WOULD SH3 N33D PROOF?  
?TC: *S11111GH* 1 DONT KNOW, M4YB3 1TS NOTH1NG  
?TC: 1 GU3SS 1M JUST...WORR13D  
?TC: 4ND 1T DO3SNT H3LP TH4T W3 ST1LL DONT KNOW WH4T TO DO 4BOUT TH1S N3KT4N STUFF  
?CC: I KNOW, I KNOW TEREZI, I’M TRYING TO GET A HOLD OF ERIDAN, OKAY?  
?CC: BUT THE ONLY ACCOUNT I FEEL COMFORTABLE MESSAGING IS NEKTAN’S ACCOUNT, AND HE HASN’T BEEN ONLINE SINCE...WELL, THE GREAT GATHERING  
?CC: HE HASN’T EVEN BEEN ON HIS *REAL* ACCOUNT  
?CC: FUCK, FOR ALL WE KNOW HE AND THE OTHERS ARE ALREADY DEAD AND THE EMPIRE IS JUST STRINGING US ALONG IN THEIR LITTLE GAME  
?CC: ...OH GOD WHAT IF THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT’S HAPPENING!?  
?CC: I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN!!!  
?CC: I KNEW NONE OF IT MADE SENSE, I KNEW NO MATTER WHAT SORT OF BULLSHIT “USE THE ENEMY’S FRIENDS AGAINST THEM” STRATEGY THE CONDESCE CONCOCTED THAT IT WAS TOO GOOD TO BE TRUE!!!!!!  
?CC: OH MY FUCKING GOD I’M GONNA DIE NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO  
?TC: K4RK4T, C4LM DOWN!!!!  
?TC: TH3 COND3SC3S SCH3M3S M4Y B3 H4RD TO F1GUR3 OUT, 4ND 1M NOT GO1NG TO D3NY 4LL OF TH1S S33MS SK3TCHY  
?TC: BUT STR1NG1NG 4LONG POSS1BL3 3N3M13S OF TH3 CROWN JUST TO FUCK W1TH TH3M 1SNT R34LLY H3R MO  
?TC: 1M NOT S4Y1NG W3 SHOULD L3T OUR GU4RD DOWN 4ROUND H3R, B3C4US3 1 G3T TH3 F33L1NG SH3S GOT SOM3TH1NG SH3S H1D1NG FROM US TOO, BUT 1 DOUBT TH4T TH3 TH1NG SH3S H1D1NG 1S JUST 4 PL4N TO L13 TO 4 BUNCH OF TROLLS FOR 4 P3R1OD OF T1M3 B3FOR3 CULL1NG TH3M 1N THE1R SL33P  
?CC: THEN...WHAT *IS* SHE HIDING???  
?TC: 1 DONT KNOW TH4T 31TH3R  
?TC: ST1LL, 1TS CL34R SH3 N33DS US OR 3LS3 W3 WOULD 4LR34DY B3 D34D  
?TC: SO 4T L34ST FOR NOW 1 TH1NK W3R3 S4F3 FROM TH3 COND3SC3  
?TC: TH4T 1S UNL3SS 4SS4HM C4N M4N4G3 TO P3RSU4D3 H3R OTH3RW1S3  
?CC: ...  
?CC: GOD, ALL OF THIS IS SO EXHAUSTING TO THINK ABOUT  
?CC: IS THERE ANYTHING ELSE WE NEED TO GO OVER BEFORE WE HAND IN OUR REPORTS TOMORROW?  
?TC: NOT TH4T 1 KNOW OF  
?TC: 1LL L34V3 TH1S UP FOR T4VROS TO S33 WH3N H3 H4S 4 CH4NC3—H3 SHOULD KNOW 4BOUT TH3S3 TH1NGS TOO, SO H3 C4N B3 C4R3FUL  
?CC: ...CAN YOU BELIEVE THE ONLY ONE OF US WHO *ISN’T* BEING SUSPECTED BY THE EMPIRE IS THE FUCKING CLOWN TROLL WHO EATS HIS SLIME OUT OF HIS OWN RECUPERCOON?  
?TC: UGHHHHHHHHHHHHH DONT 3V3N G3T M3 ST4RT3D ON TH4T!!!!!!!!!!!!  
?TC: 1M JUST GL4D H3 DO3SNT G3T TO LOOK AT TH3S3 CH4TS >:[  
?CC: IT’D PROBABLY BE FOR THE BEST THAT HE REMAINS OUT OF THE LOOP, ANYWAY  
?CC: HE’D PROBABLY MAKE THINGS WORSE BY SAYING SOMETHING AROUND THE WRONG PERSON, AND GET ALL OF US—INCLUDING HIMSELF—CULLED  
?TC: Y34H!!! >:[ WH4T 4 MORON!  
?CC: YEAH...  
?CC: ...  
?TC: ...W3LL  
?TC: 1 TH1NK 1M GONN4 H1T TH3 R3CUP3RCOON  
?TC: TH3R3S NOTH1NG 3LS3 TO R34LLY T4LK 4BOUT  
?TC: GOODN1GHT K4RK4T  
?CC: WAIT, TEREZI?  
?TC: >:?  
?CC: I JUST...  
?CC: I CAN’T SAY I AGREE WITH YOU FOR BEING BITTER AGAINST THEM  
?TC: K4RK4T, 1M R34LLY NOT 1N TH3 MOOD TO T4LK 4BOUT 1T  
?CC: BUT THE THING IS!  
?CC: THE THING IS...I UNDERSTAND IT. BECAUSE YOU LOST THE MOST OUT OF US.  
?TC: >:o  
?CC: SURE, TAVROS AND I HAVE OUR LIVES ON THE LINE JUST AS MUCH AS YOU DO, BUT BY SOME GREATER ACT OF IRONY, WE BOTH ARE GETTING TO DO EXACTLY WHAT WE’VE ALWAYS WANTED TO DO  
?CC: AND GAMZEE DIDN’T NECESSARILY GET TO BE WHAT HE WAS *GOING* TO BE, BUT I DOUBT HE EVER REALLY CARED ABOUT HIS FUTURE BEYOND IT POTENTIALLY BRINGING FORTH HIS DUMB CLOWN MESSIAHS TO PREACH THEIR “WICKED GOSPEL” OF MIRACLES, LIKE THE FUCKING LUNATIC HE IS  
?CC: WHEREAS YOU WORKED HARD TO BE A LEGISLACERATOR, AND NOW...  
?CC: I’M JUST...  
?CC: I’M SORRY, TEREZI.  
?TC: ...  
?CC: ...ANYWAY  
?CC: GOODNIGHT.  
? coolCollectorxxx [CC] left memo  
?TC: ...  
?TC: TH4NK YOU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because of lots of things happening to me in a short period of time that I mentioned in the last chapter's notes (that continue to happen to me with relative frequency no matter how much I wish they wouldn't), I can't guarantee when the next chapter will be posted. Hopefully I'll be able to maintain my "chapter-a-month" schedule (or even do it more frequently like I was hoping when this part started), but it may very well be two or even three months from now that I can post anything. Like I said, I've already been slacking on editing, and the chapter before this was rushed as it was, so I'd rather give myself time so the chapters can be done well—or at least to a certain standard where I don't read through it and start to hate myself because it's so awful. (I have yet to do this thankfully, but. You know. I don't want it to BECOME like that is what I'm saying.)
> 
> It sucks that I have to potentially give a three-month barrier between what are really very short chapters, but that is unfortunately the situation I'm dealing with at this time. So unless events transpire that make me able to update more consistently in between this chapter and the next, you can consider this story on a temporary hiatus. Potentially. Maybe.
> 
> I'm truly sorry about this, and hopefully it won't end up being like that, but I'd rather give the few readers I have the heads-up in case it DOES end up being like that.


	6. Pieces of the Puzzle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUESS WHO'S BACK
> 
> BACK AGAIN

AG

It’s been about a day and two nights since you decided to throw a middle finger to the empire and the shit destiny it had in store for you, all to become a deserter and find some grander purpose for yourself.  A day and two nights where you’ve been camping and travelling around different areas miles outside the Imperial Landing, planning and scheming a way to get back to the top, formulating plots to secure a more fitting future for yourself.

Just one day and two nights…and already, you’re seriously considering calling it quits and turning yourself in to the culling block.

“So _Vrisky_ ol’ pal.”

You wince at being called “Vrisky.”  You’ve been called many stupid things in your life, deservingly or not, but you think “Vrisky” might be the stupidest.

Garuda Aquila—the name of the cerulean blood you met at the garbage heap, and who has decided to butcher your name—along with the other troll—whose name was no doubt told to you about but you barely cared to remember—have continued to plague you with their company since the first night, following you through the thick forests that surround the Landing.  Not that you can _blame_ them, of course—you’re pretty great after all, and you mean, it’s not like you’re not flattered by them wanting to be around you and all.  You just have no idea _why_.  Trolls usually have a hivemind mentality you know, but considering from the moment you met them you regarded their presence as nothing more than an annoyance and a distraction, you don’t get why they’ve decided to follow you around like lost wiggler-woofbeasts.

Without missing a beat—and obviously reveling in your disgruntlement—he continues in an almost sing-song voice. “Where we headed off to _this_ wonderful night?”

You scowl at this.  “ _WE????????_ ” you remark coldly, now outright loathing their insistence on following you.  “I don’t know where _you_ guys are going, but _I’m_ going to keep moving.”

“ _Wow,_ ” the other troll chimes in, sounding so impressed by this.  It speaks miles for how weak they must be, and also helps explain to you why the lack such a backbone that they’ve become a tag-along.  “I don’t think I’ve seen you sleep _at all_ this entire time.  Aren’t you tired?”

You laugh in a perfect series of eight syllables at this.  What a pansy this kid is!

“ _Pleeeeeeeease_ ,” you respond, “I’ve gone _weeks_ without sleeping back when I used to FLARP!  What kind of loser needs so much sleep, anyway?”

You hope your “loser” jab is taken as the insult it was intended to be.  But considering how gullible this troll is, you might even have to spoon-feed them and explain exactly _why_ they should be insulted.  They remind you, almost infuriatingly, of someone you once knew.  _Someone who won’t be named because they’re a weak coward Pupa Pan wannabe who_ —

“Besides…” Garuda begins, interrupting your train of thought, and for once you’re happy for it.  Then, condescendingly, he finishes, saying, “She’s got ‘Big Plans,’” adding air quotes to the last two words, “ _remember?_ ”

Okay, _that_ was uncalled for.

“I _do_ have plans!” you remark defensively.

“Uh-huh,” he says, clearly not convinced.  “And what exactly _are_ those plans, if I may ask, Vrisky?”

“They’re _none of your goddamn business!_ ”

Yeah, you have absolutely no idea what you’re gonna do.

Despite how long you’ve been thinking, and despite the fact that you don’t feel the least bit tired, you haven’t thought of anything.  But it’s not like it’s your fault!  You _would’ve_ had something figured out if that bomb hadn’t been dropped on you that first night.

Being a deserter is one thing.  You can bribe your way out of desertion with enough leverage, charm, and—above all else—money.  You may have a little bit of leverage with your cerulean status, and maybe just enough gold, and…okay, maybe you’re not exactly _charming_ to people, but hey.  You could’ve had at least two things there!  It would’ve been risky, but you could’ve managed something if you got in touch with someone big enough on the chain to forge a few documents, but also big enough to not really care about taking down small fry like you unless doing so was more rewarding than letting you bribe them.

Then the _heiress_ got involved.  And not _just_ the heiress, oh no—all of your no good, worthless “ _friends_ ” who could all link you to her got involved too.

Being associated with the heiress in any capacity—even indirectly—can get you culled on the spot.  It’s the worst crime imaginable.  All the gold in the galaxy couldn’t buy you out of _THIS_ mess. 

You’ve considered a few things, like maybe turning yourself over saying you have information on Equius or even _Eridan_ , but honestly, you think it would maybe buy you a few moments of mercy before they culled you.  It certainly wouldn’t buy you any new imperial position (you’d be lucky to work in the _sewers_ at this point), nor would you get any grace for lusus-abandonment.  _Oh God, they may even force you to continue to raise your Spidermom as some sick form of punishment…_ yeah, no, turning yourself in is _bad news_.

You’ve had some bad breaks in life, but this?  This is probably the _worst_.  You think with more than a _little_ bitterness how handy your magic cue ball would have been at this juncture, and God does _that_ just bring up even more baggage—

“Hellooo?  _Alternia to Vrisky_ , are you _listening_ to me?”

Oh great.  Yet _another_ bothersome thing to deal.

You sigh, not even _trying_ to hide your annoyance, and stop your trek, they following suit behind you.  “What the _hell_ do you guys even _want_ with me?” you say, scowling.  “You both heard those deputarians—I’m associated with the heiress.  I’m the _worst_ of criminals.  Every second you spend with me, you’re risking your _own_ lives.

“You think being a deserter would get you a bad punishment?  _Pleeeeeeeease_.  The things they do with heiress sympathizers is a hundred times _worse_.  I once heard a person was torn limb from limb by the emissary for even _knowing_ the heiress’s full name, and that was considered _light_ punishment.”

You hear one of them gulp.  It doesn’t take a halfwit to know that the one gulping was _not_ Garuda.

“So you see…” you continue.  “Hanging out with me is the last thing you want to do.  Only _moronic losers_ would even consider it.”

Then you turn to look at them, smiling ever so sweetly.  “And you guys don’t want to be _that_ , do you?  So _leave.  Me.  The fuck.  Alone._ ”

You turn, and, without another word, continue on your trek.

For a moment, they don’t follow.  A few more feet and still nothing.  And even still they don’t follow for another.

 _Thank God_ , you think.  _Maybe they’ll actually leave, and I’ll finally_ —

“Eh, what’s the worst that can happen?”

_GODDAMN THAT STUPID MEDDLESOME UNHELPFUL GARUDA._

It doesn’t take long for him to catch to your place and match your pace.

“I’m probably dead anyway,” he says.  “At least I’ll get a good show watching _Vrisky_ here get punished tenfold.”

You shoot him a scowl.  He shoots you a smirk.

“I’m…” the other troll starts. “I think I’ll just…leave you guys then—”

Before you could even count your blessings that at the very _least_ you shook off the wimpy troll, shouts rang through the trees.

“ _I heard a noise!_ ”

“ _Where!?_ ”

“ _THIS WAY!_ ”

Shit. More deputarians.

Before you can process his movements, Garuda has already climbed up a tree, staying perfectly motionless.  You’d think the kid _grew up_ in them.

You, however, are not so quick, and take a few moments to find a convenient bush to jump in and hide.   Even as you do, you’re painfully aware of how shitty a spot it is to hide in, and growl to yourself for being so slow.

But at least you're just fast enough. You view from the gaps in the leaves of the bushes the other wimpy troll in a panic.  Their head darts back and forth, looking around, trying desperately to find something, only to settle for what you think is another bush—

Only too late as a bullet flies through their head, sending yellow blood flying. 

“ _Eh-heeeeey, I_ got _one!_ ” one of those deputarians cries with glee.

The trigger-happy troll comes in, covered head-to-toe like the other ones were, though this time with camouflaged blue gear to fit in with the blue of the trees.  Another follows behind.

“Fuck,” the other one curses.  “Weren’t we lookin’ for a cerulean though?”

“Who the fuck _cares?_ ” the one with the gun replies.  “You heard the Empress—it’s shoot on sight with deserters until we find the Serket girl.”

Your heart drops.  Before they were saying they wanted you in for questioning, but now…now they don’t even want _information_ from you.  They just want you _dead_.  Fuck being able to turn yourself in

Did they get the info from someone else?  Why do they need you _dead?_

_What the hell happened in the past three days?_

You can’t see much of what the trolls are doing, but you hear a thump—what you know from experience is the sound of a dead body being kicked—and then the voice of the troll without the gun.  “Dang…a yellow blood without mutation?  How _worthless_.”

“Heh,” the other troll chuckles.  “No _wonder_ they deserted—they couldn’t have even gotten sold for a good price as a _slave_.

Anyway, scan the area—I heard multiple voices here.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Oh no.  Oh God no.

You hear the ruffling of leaves of what you assume is a troll going to another part of their space in the forest, but you know for a _fact_ that the other troll is staying, though they walk out of your view—whether it’s the one with the gun you’re unsure, though it hardly matters.  Deputarians are always armed in some way.

You hear the one staying making slow footsteps.  Somehow you think this troll isn’t one to shoot willy-nilly at the nearest noise like the other one apparently is.  No, they’re gonna take their sweet ass time and look in every nook and cranny.

Which means only one thing for you—you are _fucked_.

You hear a ruffling through the bushes as the troll looks through them.  You don’t even move an inch, holding your breath.  The trolls knocks on some wood—presumably a tree.  You don’t think it’s Garuda’s.  You almost hope he’ll be found before you and give you a chance to sneak away.  Fuck, why didn’t you consider that when the yellow troll was shot!?

Another knock on wood, dangerously close to your bush.  You can even see their legs.  And you can also see as they pull out their gun and make three shots through the trees.

Oh fuck.  Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck _oh **fuck** you are **FUCKED**_.

Keep calm, you tell yourself.  They’re expecting you to freak out.

But they’re inching to your bush.  You can see their knees up close and you pull out your dice thinking you may not be lucky but like _hell_ are you gonna die here, you’ve come too far, done too much, survived too long to let it all end at 8 sweeps—

“ _EH CAZERA!!!_ ”

The troll stops their movements suddenly.

“ _C’MERE, I FOUND SOMETHING!_ ”

The troll turns from their task.  “ _Coming!_ ” they call back.

If you were a moron, you would’ve loudly exhaled in relief at such them being distracted by something apparently more interesting than any deserters.  A lucky break.

Thank _fuck_ you got one of those for a change.

“ _HOLY SHIT, A CARRIER!?_ ”

The trolls are surprised at this development, and you can’t really blame them.

A carrier?  All the way out here in the woods?

“ _You don’t think it could be the same one, do you?_ ”

“ _Fuck YEAH I think it’s the same!_ ”

“ _They just…wrecked it and_ abandoned _it!?  What a_ waste!”

Who wrecked and abandoned it?  You couldn’t know.  But you almost wanted to.

“ _Look!  It even has a bunch of dead lusii in it!_ ”

“ _Oh wow, it was DEFINITELY the one they took!_ ”

The one _who_ took?  All of this is incredibly intriguing.

“ _You think that was their plan?  The group of betrayers?_ ”

“ _Seems pretty obvious it was, doesn’t it?_ ”

“ _Yeah, I s’pose your right…why the fuck would the heiress leave it then?_ ”

THE _HEIRESS????????_

 _FEFERI_ took this carrier?  But _why?_   And why were there dead lusii in it?

What was Feferi Peixes even _planning???_

_What was going ON????????_

“ _Well,_ duh _, it’s not like she and the others could just_ carry _them all…there’s like what,_ five trolls?”

“ _I thought one of them was like…a fuckin’ mutant or some shit.  And there was that muscle-y dude, I’m sure he could’ve carried his fair share._ ”

“ _Not if they’re running from the empire as wanted fugitives…regardless, we should leave and report to command about this_ immediately _._ ”

“ _What!?  We can’t just fuckin’_ leave _this shit!  The emissary’s hungry, remember!?  If the Condesce is gonna take over feeding responsibilities, she’s gonna need a LOT of food!_ ”

The emissary?  _Hungry?_

Was that what Feferi was trying to do?  Feed her lusus?

Was the emissary _that_ hungry????

Admittedly, due to your bloodcaste, the emissary would have to be hungry for some time before you felt anything, so even if they were hungry, you obviously wouldn’t be able to tell.  What _you_ don’t get is that Feferi and Eridan have been feeding that thing like clockwork ever since you met them.  Hell, the whole reason you and Eridan worked so _well_ for so long is that you both had an arrangement where he’d take the lusii of your FLARPing victims, and you’d take the trolls yourself.  And as far as Eridan told you, so long as Feferi feeds the lusus, she’ll be safe from the Condesce’s wrath.

Could that have been why she tried to stand up to the Condesce in the first place?  To save her neck?

And anyway…why was her lusus so hungry now?

…To tell the truth, you can sorta understand how it might’ve happened.  After all, you know all about troublesome lusii and not wanting to deal with them anymore.  Deep down, you can understand how she’d get tired of it.

But then she isn’t just some cerulean blood like you.  She’s the heiress.  And if the emissary doesn’t get fed then…it means extinction for trolls.  Why would Feferi Goody-Two-Shoes Peixes ever risk something like _that????_

“ _You’ll stay and watch the lusii_ ,” you hear the trolls finish their conversation.  “ _I’ll go tell command that we hit the fucking jackpot with food for the behemoth._ ”

“ _By my_ self!?”

“ _What’s wrong?  It’s a simple fuckin’ task.  Why are you bitchin’?  Pussin’ out on me like a_ —”

“ _Ugh, would you_ stop!? _Fine, fine, I’ll_ stay.”

“ _That’s the spirit.  I’ll be back before you know it._ ”

As you hear the other troll shuffle off, your pan’s cogs are moving, trying to take in all the information you just received and process it in an orderly manner.  You focus on the most important things first.

For one thing, you’re no longer wanted for potential info—they want you dead on sight.  You can’t use that as a bargaining chip.

For two, Feferi and Eridan were somehow failing their duty.  You don’t doubt why—Feferi was probably getting sick of it, and Eridan was probably happy to come close to mass genocide.

Thirdly, Feferi must have changed her mind, or smartened the fuck up and realized she was screwing herself over by not feeding her lusus.  She probably came up with the revolution attempt to distract the Condesce while she got food.  As far as you can see, it wasn’t working.

(You still of course have no idea how anyone else got involved.  Not Equius, not whoever else Feferi’s working with.  You especially don’t get why Eridan’s helping.  _None of this_ makes sense for him.  None of it.)

And of course, to the matter currently being dealt with…you’re stuck here in these bushes until some unforeseen time, or at least until this other troll let’s the guard down.  Fucking perfect.  Your only consolement is that at the very least Garuda’s suffering with you.

…Actually, no.  You hate that he’s here and hope he’s caught first.

Regardless of anything else, you know one thing for certain.  It’s gonna take a lot more to get back on top, if you ever even.  And more than this…

You have to think about how you’re getting this.  And fast.

 

* * *

 

grimAuxiliatrix [GA] began trolling  arachnidsGrip [AG]

GA: Vriska You Must Respond  
GA: Its Been Three Days And STILL I Have No Word From You  
GA: There Are Still A Lot Of Bad Things Happening  
GA: I Cant Talk About Them Now But All I Can Safely Say Is That Youre Unsafe  
GA: I Keep Getting News From Karkat And The Others But None Good  
GA: I Know You Dislike Me Fussing And Meddling But PLEASE I Am Your MOIRAIL YOU NEED TO TALK TO ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

grimAuxiliatrix [GA] ceased trolling arachnidsGrip [AG]  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to first apologize for being on hiatus for so long. I really never intended to go this long without adding a new chapter, and God do I feel awful for it. I can’t fully excuse the hiatus, but I can hopefully explain it: between not having a job, having to move quite suddenly from a volatile place (I wouldn’t say unsafe, but definitely not good for my mental health), and the added stress, anxiety, and assortment of mental issues that came from these things, I was absolutely in no shape to be writing any new chapters for this. I know there’s that cliché that pain inspires art, which in some ways and for some people it can, but in my case it just made the writing I was producing really sloppy and not okay (at least not for me). And even when I DID get a job, it became a matter of saving up enough money to pay off my credit card debt, begin saving for my own home (currently living with OTHER family now), paying off my student loan debt, paying back overdue bills and current bills, and really just…be in a place where I felt like my life wasn’t in perpetual financial chaos.
> 
> I’m happy to say that I AM in that spot now, and can focus on doing something I actually really LIKE doing— _WRITING_.
> 
>  And _what_ am I gonna write?
> 
>  _ **SELF-INDULGENT FANFICTION**_. (AKA this story)
> 
> So to anyone who’s still reading and stuck through my hiatus, thank you! You’re super awesome! To every other reader, HEY LOOK IT’S SUCH A GREAT TIME TO START READING THIS ‘CAUSE IT’S UPDATING AGAIN!!! :D
> 
> The next chapter should be done next month. SEE YOU THEN!


	7. Slavery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PREPARE FOR TROUBLE!!! _MAKE IT **DOUBLE**!!!!!_
> 
> ...This is a two chapter update to make up for my not posting an update in forever.

TA

“ _Wake up, slave_.”

And wake up you did from whatever slumber had transpired over you.  You don’t even know if you _did_ fall asleep, or if the blackness of the cargo hold of the ship was so dark you simply _thought_ you slept.  You certainly didn’t _feel_ well-rested.  Even still, you knew you were huddled up in the corner, away from the other slaves around you (who all didn’t seem to pay you any mind), lying on the steel chrome floor.

“I _said_ , **_wake up_**.”

Suddenly you’re kicked, and with a sharp pain all the air leaves you.  You roll around, groaning from impact.

“ _I’m fucking_ up _, assface_ …”

This time he stomps on the side where your ribs are with what feels like very heavy, powerful boots, and what little air you had left is gone.  You’re left wheezing and coughing, clutching your side in pain.

“Had enough, smartass?”

No.  You didn’t have enough, and you _wouldn’t_ have enough until this guy fucking shot you in the head to put an end to it all…but you don’t say that.

“Yes sir, sorry sir.”

“Good.  Now… _get_.  _Up_.”

Despite your stomach and ribs hurting like all hell, you bring yourself to sit up, and look up at the person responsible.  Even in the darkness, you recognize him as the jade blood from before—the one who purchased you.

“I don’t have all day,” he says impatiently, and you almost expect him to comically start tapping his feet and cross his arms.  He looks enough like some comic book villain sidekick to _do_ such a thing.

Repressing your urge to snicker at this thought (and deciding _not_ to test this person’s patience), you make your way up so that you’re both standing.  For the first time since seeing him, you’re surprised to notice how tall he is compared to you—sure, you aren’t exactly tall _anyway_ , but he practically _towers_ over you.

Fitting, you suppose, for someone who’s going to own you.  Or wait…didn’t he say he was purchasing you on behalf of someone else?  In between the horrors of being sold, being separated from AA, the voices crying in your mind, and everything _else_ happening, your memory’s still foggy.  Maybe you _did_ sleep…that, or you were dissociating.

“Since you are one of the new cargo on board,” the jade blood begins, “we have to go through the process of assigning you a code.”

You raise your eye.  “Don’t I already _have_ a code for the Empire?”

“Yes, but that’ll be irrelevant for our uses.  Pull out your wrist.”

You hesitate.  Exactly _what_ is he going to do?

“You would be _wise_ to not disregard orders,” he bites.  “I promise the Master will _not_ be as tolerant of such behavior from a slave.”

So you were right in remembering it was someone else who bought you, though it proves a very small victory everything considered.  Despite still not wanting to know what he might do to your wrist, you put it out, knowing ultimately you don’t have a choice.

He grabs to steady it, and pulls out a contraption of sorts that…almost looks like a stamp.  He places the stamp above your wrist, and in less than a second what feels like a bunch of tiny needles start jabbing your skin.  You struggle, mostly out of the shock of pain, but ultimately it doesn’t hurt as much as you thought it would.

“This is an imperially sanctioned tattoo stamper,” the jade blood explains without your asking.  “We use it to brand all imperial property.”

You almost want to respond by saying, _I wasn’t their property_ before _?_ , but you feel you’ve worn out any opportunity to have an attitude with this guy.

In a matter of moments, he pulls the stamper away, and you can see the end result of your “branding.”  In almost neon yellow you can see a strange insignia you don’t recognize, plus the number “2” and the letter “H.”

“The yellow color is to represent your blood color,” the jade blood explains.  “The sign is the symbol of your Master.  The two and the ‘H’ represent your position.”

Trying not to sound snarky, you ask, “And what exactly _is_ my position?”

“You will be the Master’s back-up helm in their main ship”— _main_ ship, you think bemusingly—“in case their current helm breaks.  Though it was just put in to replace our _old_ one, so I doubt we’ll need you any time soon.”

It’s almost unbelievable how depersonalized this guy is about a person—a _living, sentient thing_ —being used to propel a ship, talking of them like they’re some mechanical hardwiring that can be fixed or replaced whenever is necessary.  But then that’s the Empire for you.  No surprise there.

It doesn’t stop it from being depressing, though.

“You should count yourself lucky,” the jade says.  “This new form of branding is very mild compared to the branding that _used_ to occur.  Luckily for you, hot irons haven’t been used in _sweeps_.”

Fucking _yippee_ you want to say.  “Thank you for your compassion, sir,” is what you _actually_ say.

“Don’t thank me,” he says, “thank your Master.  They’re a _very_ important player in imperial schemes, and are an acquaintance of Her Imperious Condescension Herself.  They could very well have exercised their full brutality over you.”

A higher-up troll decides not to treat you like shit, and you have to be grateful for it.  Welcome to the Great Fucking Troll Empire.

“Sir…” you begin.  “If I’m simply to be a replacement helm…then what am I supposed to do until then?”

“Whatever our Master wants you to do, if anything,” the jade blood explains.  “Your Master has more slaves than they know what to do with, so…odds are, you will be trusted to be left to your own devices until they tell you otherwise.”

You can’t really say that’s a _bad_ set-up…you’re still essentially property, and can be wired up to a ship at any given moment, but for now at least…you’re kind of in the clear.

As far as being a slave goes, and as sick as you know it is to think this way, things could be a lot worse.

Seeming to be done with you, the jade blood begins walking away, and as he does he adds final details about your situation.

“This ship is headed to your Master’s terrastation now—we should be there very soon.  Until then, you may stay posted, await any orders that may come, and keep out of trouble.  I trust you’re able to do all three without problems.”

And with that, an autoentrance opens for him on the wall, and he’s gone.

If what the jade blood was saying before about your owner being some important person, them having a terrastation is enough to make that seem like a reality.  Terrastations are essentially manmade planets owned only by a select few wealthy and important trolls, and were usually home to them, a few close friends and quadrant mates, and an entire, self-sustaining population of slaves.

And now…you were a part of that population, if only indirectly for now.  As was every other slave on this ship.

You look around at the other slaves around you, all unperturbed by what just took place between you and the jade blood (this is most likely standard procedure for them—nothing special to see).  All of them appear to either be talking amongst themselves, or otherwise remaining idle where they sit.  None of them appear to be busy with anything else.

You don’t even consider the notion of making these people your friends.  Even though you’re all slaves and it probably _would_ create a sense of comradery and fellowship, you’ve never been a fan of actually…talking to people.  The only reason you got the friends you did on Alternia is because all of you were socially awkward morons who were either too weird or too creepy to get along with anyone else—yes, even AA.  The only person that maybe _wasn’t_ like this couldn’t talk to people for _very_ big reasons, and…

Your heart almost stops with the thought of this person, as the image of them on a podium flashes before you.  It’s so clear and visible, yet…

Could it really have been FF on that monitor, standing at the podium where the Condesce was supposed to be?  Were you just seeing things?  Were you dreaming?  You can’t possibly imagine it being _real_.  FF could _never_ have been invited to speak there…

It must have been an illusion.  Yes…the stress of everything that happened then must have wore on you, and you were seeing things.  You probably could’ve seen AA on that screen with how far gone you were mentally.

“ _Ughhhhh…_ ”

At first you barely pick up on the groaning.  And even after you pick up on it, you assume it’s just one of the many voices buzzing around your head of some poor doomed soul.

“ _Ugghhhhhhhh……_ ”

Okay, that definitely _wasn’t_ a voice of the doomed.

You look around for the source, and end up finding it in a very old trying, lying on the ground near the wall.  Even without the audible groaning the troll’s appearance makes them pretty easy to find in the crowd—a long, trailing beard, even longer, wiry hair, and large, swooping horns that you think go all the way down to their feet (probably making lying down a pain in and of itself).  Despite the troll’s obvious hurting, no one seems to notice or care.

And so you decide to ignore them yourself—you don’t have the time, energy, or resources to help this troll anyway, so why bother?

…Even if AA would be disappointed in you.

“ _Aaaaaaagh!_ ”

Another troll yelps in pain.  This time you can’t visibly see them, only hear a _klang_ as they fall on the steel floor.  This time other trolls _do_ seem to take notice, as they all seem to look around, as if to wonder what’s happening.

Before you yourself can figure out, you hear a loud ringing in your ears, and something warm and liquid-y dripping down your face.  At first you think you might be freaking out or crying in some sort of random breakdown ( _just_ what you need right now), and try to wipe away whatever liquid you feel oozing out, only to see the thing you’re wiping is thicker than tears.

 _Blood_.


	8. All Regrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprisingly not a Vriska chapter, despite this being chapter 8...Vriska weeps at the thought of what could've been.

CA

It’s been almost two nights and one day since you decided to foolishly shit over the grand future you had promised to you to help your moirail with her foolhardy plans.  Two nights and one day since it all blew up in your face, and, realizing it was futile to try and fight to get it all back, accepted your fate as a dead man.

Two nights and one day…and you guys _still_ haven’t turned yourselves in.

You’re all huddled under thick shade from the harsh midnight sun, your lusii asleep in a huddle together, and you’re all continuing to delay the inevitable.  Everyone understands that this is it…okay, everyone except maybe _Nep_ understands this, but then who really gives a rat’s (cat’s?) ass what a girl like her thinks.  Even Eq has stopped protesting and is in what you assume to be mute (and sweaty) acceptance.  But for whatever reason, you’re all still waiting on one person to make the final call…and despite her honesty in confessing to you all that you all had fucked up, she can’t seem to make up her mind.

Stubborn, proud, infuriating Fef.  You wonder if she’s just staving off turning yourselves in to save herself the guilt, or if she just wants to cling onto life that much longer.  God, you have countless reasons to be angry at her right now—

“Mr. Ampora, sir.”

Eq, who’s sitting near you, speaks in a voice that’s lower than usual, as if he wants to avoid people hearing him.  You don’t know _why_ though, considering Ara and Nep are under a different tree having their own hushed conversation…or what seems to be mostly Nep prattling on about “running away” and Ara politely listening despite getting an obvious headache from it.  And Fef is sitting away from the lot of you, legs outstretched and holding her hands together, looking as if in deep thought.  No one could hear unless he was hollering for attention.

…You almost _want_ to respond to him loudly to draw attention just to remind him of his place beneath you—just to restore some of your pride.  But you ultimately decide to let him have his way, acknowledging you heard him with a small nod.

“I would first like to make it clear that I already perfectly understand how cynical you are in attempting to barter with the empire for our lives,” he says.  “You’ve made your position one hundred percent clear.”

“And?” you say, already knowing what he was going to attempt.

“Well…” he says, trailing.  “If you may forgive me my lord, but…I cannot help but consider.”

Oh God, here we go.

“Perhaps if we are gone long enough from the empire…why, our glorious empress would probably come to understand that this ridiculous attempt at revolution was truly a fool’s errand on our part and be more…merciful.  _Heck_ —er, excuse my profanity—it’s even quite possible that her imperiousness would…er, with time of course—”

“She’d _what_ , Eq?” you bite.  “Completely forget about it?  You realize you’re talkin’ about the same woman who held week-long executions ‘cause a guy who made a _joke_ about becoming the next ruler, right?”

The blue blood gulps, sweat (or really more of it) trickling down his face.  “Well…to be fair, the teal blood known as Jerry Seinfield was _not_ a great comedian.”

“ _That ain’t the fuckin’ point Eq an’ you know it_ ,” you scowl.  “It don’t fuckin’ matter if we turn oursel-ws in now or two blasted sweeps from now—no matter what, she’s gonna kill us.  E-win if eh-wryone _else_ forgets us, she won’t.  An’ she’ll damn well make sure they all _remember_ by strewin’ our guts across the planet.”

Eq grows quiet at this, though is definitely uncomfortable with the notion, as you can see sweat literally _pouring_ off him (you try your best to ignore your violet-blooded inclinations to tell him how bad he smells and instead give him the good favor of ignoring it).  In a way, you can’t help but feel just a little bad for him.  You assume since he was a relatively higher blooded person than the others in your patchwork team of “revolutionaries,” you assume he probably had a lot to lose by joining this venture—almost as much as you.  But _unlike_ you, he never really made the idiotic and willing choice to be a part of this scenario.  It’s…kinda sad, really, to think about.

.…Not as sad as _your_ unfortunate circumstances, of course, _but still_. 

You sigh, thinking you should try to give the guy a break—cheer him up even.  As the two socially _accepted_ royals of the group, you two are almost like…kindred spirits here.

“Look, Eq…it ain’t that bad.  You can at _least_ be happy in knowin’ you’re execution won’t be that publicized, an’ your legacy won’t be hurt.  You’ll just be another dumb blue blood who made a stupid decision.  If anything, me an’ Fef’ll be the ones who are made examples of, bein’ sea dwellers an’ suchlike.”

“If you’re attempting to comfort me,” he says, sweat still flowing off him, “I can assure you it is _not working_.”

You huff.  The _nerve_ of this guy.  “I neh-wer _said_ I wanted to comfort ungrateful land dwellin’ scum like _you_.”

At that, you bring yourself up and walk away from him.  There’s no need to continue a conversation with someone so _ungrateful_ …and really, you need to be alone with your thoughts.  A walk to clear your mind sounds like a great idea right now.

You are about to head further through the thick forestry that shelters you all from the sun, before stealing a glance with Fef across from you.  Unlike you and Eq, and Ara and Fef, who are all sitting relatively close together, she sits alone.  She looks at you and doesn’t look away, as if wondering if you might come by to join her.  Ever since the day she admitted her foul, you two have…kept your distance.

You know this must be hard.  You know with everyone’s scorn around her, she must feel guilty.  _Lonely_.

You quickly turn away.  You can’t deal with it right now…and anyway, you should probably be clear-headed before you try to do your moirail duty, or else your _real_ desires might slip out.  Ignoring her, you continue deeper into the shade of the woods and into the solitude of your pan.

The quiet and dark among the underbrush couldn’t be topped as the ideal environment to collect your thoughts and accept all that will no doubt occur after this.  Sure, you already knew you would die, but as you all let the clock continue to tick, and as Fef tries to futilely postpone everyone’s doom, a chance to make peace with your short lives is desperately, _desperately_ needed.

Before, you were pretty good at keeping track of every good thing that has ever happened.  Not because you’re a particularly _sentimental_ person, but because Fef insisted that you try to think of the good things in life rather than the bad when things appear bleak and hopeless.  It was shitty moirail advice said to try and keep you in line (Pupa Pan-esque “think happy thoughts” bullshit advice), but you took to it anyway…mostly to show how “committed” you were to her and your moirallegiance.  And so now you try to take out that collection to try and find something that makes your life seem less pointless in the grand macrocosm of things.  Unfortunately, despite your status, prestige, and privilege (and either because of cynicism or selfishness), you can’t think of much that has made your life fulfilling up to this point.

You try to think of Fef—obviously, because your fate has been tied to her for so long, and at times living only seemed fine because _she_ was in the picture.  But the fact that that fate that you once clung to is how you’ve managed to become a traitor to the crown makes it hard to see even the purest moments between the two of you seem like anything _but_ the countdown to your ruin.  You scratch this train of thought and try to move onto something else…

Kar.  It seems natural to think of Kar after Fef, considering what he was to you—or at least, what you _wanted_ him to be.  Both of them never seemed to be what you wanted, and both at least had the potential to ruin you (and to think you spent so much time worrying about how helping _Kar_ could fuck you over, and hardly at all about how much damage _Fef_ could do).  It’s strange to you how much he meant (still means) in hindsight, because it’s not as though you guys have had as much interpersonal time as you’ve had with Fef—the incident at the Great Gathering was the first time you had even _met_ him in person, as before your interaction were either on Trollian or webcam sessions on Troll Skype, the latter of which he hated.  Even still, your opinion of him and Fef are so intertwined that in some ways, they may as well have represented the same thing—failure and futility.  Like everything else that has happened in your life.  Yeah, no, you aren’t gonna keep thinking about Kar—remember, you have to think _“happy thoughts.”_

But the only other “positive” relationship and interactions you can consider (like you cared much about the group of people you loosely referred to as “friends”) was Kan, and all Kan and you ever really had in common were your similarly unrequited red interests in your respective moirails.  And even _that_ was complicated, considering her moirail was…

And any chance of “happy thoughts” appearing comes to a shrieking, 8-second-long hault with the thought of the girl that even now makes you _scowl_ just thinking of her.  The one and only, Vriska Serket.

To think even before you had boasted your achievements to her on Trollian—the great Eridan Ampora triumphs, and the cerulean wench is relegated to fleet captain duty of all things.  Thinking pathetically that somehow you having the upper hand might ignite her interest in you again…

_How patheeeeeeeetic, Dualscar!_

Her imagined words taunt you.  _God_ , would she have a field day with this.

_8ecome a galaxy conqueror and end up throwing it all away? For a FLUSH CRUSH????  You MORON!!!!!!!!_

You wish you could at least have the satisfaction of glaring at her.

_Ohhhhhhhh, how the mighty have fallen!  Now you’re just a worthless TR8TOR!!!!!!!!_

…But then you know every insult she’d throw at you, if she even mustered the energy to throw any…

_HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!_

…would be _right_.

How could you throw it all away for _Fef_?  How could you risk it all for _Kar_?  How is it that Mindfang has become a voice of reason where even your _moirail_ failed?

How…oh _God_ , how have you become so _pathetic_ —

“ _Eridan?_ ”

The small, familiar voice startles you, causing you to visibly flinch.  As if the bad decisions you’ve made weren’t insulting enough, now you’re _flinching_ at random noises.  _Great_.

Even though you recognize the voice as Fef, when you turn, you almost expect to see Vris laughing at you.  At first, you wonder how she had caught up to you, since you felt you had walked quite a distance, but before you can ask, she’s already talking.

“I’m sorry,” Fef says apologetically, “did I startle you?”

Trying to protect _some_ of your pride, you scoff and roll your eyes.  “ _Please_ , Fef, I’wh been your goddamn Orphaner since I was _four_ , a small feminine _woice_ ain’t gonna make me piss myself.”

Two sweeps ago, such an unabashed refusal to admit your true feelings would’ve resulted in a fight between the two of you.  You almost think she might start one now, as she stares at you for a moment before sighing and looking down.

“Eridan…I’m sorry.”

You’re caught off guard by this simple statement.  You’re even more shocked when she looks back up and you can see the sincerity of her words by the fuchsia shining in her eyes.

“I guess…I _know_ I already apologized to everyone.  But I just felt…”

She trails off, and you think this might be a moment where you would go to her and comfort her, but you’re afraid if you do she’d become a crying mess, and you’ll never get a proper apology.  And by _fuck_ , you deserve it.  You don’t _care_ if that’s selfish, even as fuchsia falls down her cheek.

“…I just felt you deserved a proper one, after everything you’ve done for me,” she finally finishes.

Even though it’s _exactly_ what you wanted to hear—Fef praising you for everything you’ve sacrificed for her—it feels…empty.  Though not like the last apology, where you were angry and terrified all at once.  Because now her shoulders were shaking, and her voice cracked at the end, and _God_ you are a bastard for not even _trying_ to comfort her.

She looks back up at you, wiping away some of the water staining her cheek.  “I never wanted to get you involved, Eridan.  You _have_ to believe me, I—”

And now you can’t restrain yourself, and you approach her and pull her into your arms.  And of course, as you predicted, she embraces you back becomes a crying mess—ironic, because usually _you’re_ the crying, emotional mess she needs to protect.

But then even princesses need a chance to be weak sometimes, don’t they?

“I th-thought I could _protect_ you,” she says, balling the back of your jacket in her fis.  “I m-min- _knew_ I couldn’t t-tell you a-boat it, because then—then you wouldn’t have a _choice_ , b-but I…”

You _cannot_ believe she is doing the fish pun thing as she’s balling in your arms, but you let her do it anyway.  Normally it pisses you off because it just reflects her insincerity about most _anything_ , but you think in this moment…it may just be a defense mechanism.  You don’t think since the almost break-up two sweeps ago that she has been so vulnerable around you.

And _God_ , are you so red for her.  You just wanna tell her, here and now, how you really feel.  But then…

“How did I get s—so _lucky_ to get a koi-rail like _you_?”

Fef is the one who says this to you.  But odds are, you would’ve said it before her if you had the chance (minus the luck part of course).  Because even to the bitter fucking end, you can’t bring yourself to grow a goddamn spine and tell her what you _really_ think.

Even now, as you hold her in your arms, and your collapsing and expanding bladder based aquatic vascular system flutters with the red desires you’ve had since you can’t say when, you can’t muster the backbone to crush her illusion of your guys’ perfect moirallegiance.  All you do is nuzzle her voluminous hair, and say, “I could say the same about you,” trying hard to cover the sadness and longing in your voice.

 _Some 8ig 8ad sea dweller_ you _are!_ you imagine Vris teasing.

You both stay there a minute longer, you relishing in what could be the last intimate moment you have with Fef, and Fef no doubt trying to compose herself.  When she finally pulls away, she starts to speak again.

“I keep thinking about…how I can go ahead and turn myself in and spare you guys…”

And so the reasoning for her refusal to go emerges.  It’s amazingly more selfless than you expected of her.  “There isn’t a way around it, Fef,” you tell her.

“I _know_ ,” she says with defeat.  “I know.  But…I just thought—”

Before she can _finish_ her thought, a loud _shriek_ rings through the trees.  Before either of you have a chance to wonder about the sound or be startled from it, you both hear very stern commands from what very much sounds like Eq, and you’re both running toward their location in an instant.

“ _Someone found us!_ ” you tell Fef, getting your Crosshairs ready.  Fef says nothing in agreement or opposition, but similarly pulls out her trident.

When you both arrive, it seems on the surface your suspicions are confirmed.  Ara is on her side, rust-colored blood dripping all over her face, Nep and Eq panicked and trying to prop her up. Your lusii, now awoken, are making all manner of beastly noises, adding to the chaos.

Fef immediately goes to Ara's side to help.  “ _What happened!?  Who_ did _this!!?_ ”

“ _We don’t know!_ ” Nep says worriedly.  She’s taking most of the lead in helping Ara, no doubt used to the site of blood considering what she does to survive.  Eq, however, is a pale grey, obviously perturbed by the amount of blood.

You raise your rifle up, assuming by the blood on her head that this must have been some sort of sniper.  “ _Where the fuck are you, you coward!?_ ” you shout out. “ _You gonna take us to the empire or not, you fuckin’ bastard!!?  SHOW YOURSELF!!!_ ”

Your voice echoes through the forest, but no one appears to claim your fight.  You continue to look around for a face in the shadows of the trees, or a movement in the bushes, or _anything_ , but when the silence resumes, no one but Fef.

“ _Oh my God…_ ”

You look down to her, and without looking back up at you, she gives you the culprit’s identity in two words, though it leaves you all with more questions than answers.

“ _She’s hungry…_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to say I'm sorry for yet again not updating. I can't really give an excuse, and I won't. I simply couldn't muster the energy or inspiration to finish this, or to keep my promise of a month update. This was entirely my fault.
> 
> I'm kind of back in the groove of things though, and have renewed inspiration to see this through to the end. So for those few readers I have left...congrats, you stuck through, and I am _very_ proud of you! I hope you continue to be patient with me as I finish the next chapter (I'm hesitant to promise an update by next month, since we've seen how well I keep _those_ promises...) I hope to see you all again soon!


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